


Bringing Up Weasley

by VivacissimoVoce



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Crack, Family Fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, The Burrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivacissimoVoce/pseuds/VivacissimoVoce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rogue hex turns Ron into a baby, and Harry and Draco have to figure out how to raise him together. Originally intended to be a "short" fic, it's a fun bit of fluff with a healthy dose of humor. Harry/Draco slash. Contains mature language and sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
> 
> This silly idea was originally supposed to be a "short" fic. It's a fun bit of fluff with a healthy dose of humor. Apologies for any editing mistakes, after two passes I started to go cross-eyed.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

Ron and Harry stared up at the glossy blue sign that towered over the entrance of the newest shop in Hogsmeade. The precise white lettering stood out in contrast against the hand-hewn wooden signs that marked the other shops along the street. Harry would bet Galleons to gillyweed that it had been crafted in a muggle factory just to attract this sort of attention.

“SpellMart,” Ron frowned. “Look at the size of this place.”

“They’ll put everyone out of business in no time,” Harry said. As the words were leaving his lips a group of five witches entered the store and a pair of wizards exited with an armful of overflowing bags.

“They say they have the lowest prices,” Ron regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “We should at least check it out, right?”

“It can’t hurt to look,” Harry agreed.

“We’ll just look,” Ron nodded. “We’ll buy from the smaller shops, but we’ll have a look.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed again.

“Let’s go,” Ron slapped him on the shoulder and ran eagerly for the entrance.

They pushed through the door and screeched to a halt just across the threshold. The interior was astonishing. Charmed to be larger on the inside than the outside, the vast, brightly lit space rambled off in every direction, an endless sea of neatly arranged shelves. Soft, friendly music tinkled from the ceiling, and the happy hustle and bustle of shoppers lent a cheerful atmosphere to the space.

“It’s like a muggle shop,” Harry breathed. “We might as well be at Tesco.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Ron’s eyes bugged out comically.

“Start at the beginning. Aisle one,” Harry pointed.

They joined the flow of amazed shoppers as they filtered past the stacks of ingredients, potions, and enchanted objects. Each aisle was organized by theme, with clearly marked prices and information cards attached. Harry had to admit that it took some of the guesswork out of spell preparation.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” he said. “It doesn’t feel magical. It lacks some of the mystery.”

“Who needs mystery?” Ron fondled a jar of flobberworm mucus. “Imagine if we’d had this in school. Snape’s class would have been a breeze.”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged. “You learn less when it’s a breeze, though.” He thought of his brief time with a particularly helpful spell book.

“I could live with that,” Ron shrugged back. “Do they have any food here or is it just magical items? We need to stock up the house if Mum isn’t going to be there to cook.”

“How long are they going to be in Romania?” Harry asked.

“A month,” Ron grinned. “A month to kick back and relax, maybe throw a few parties. And with Hermione in China for graduate studies, there’s no one to tell us what to do.”

“Only Hermione would enroll in advanced studies a week after graduation,” Harry said, hefting a package of dried herbs. “Fifteen Galleons for Star Grass? That seems high.”

“I tried to tell her. This is our last summer to relax and piss about,” Ron said. “Seventh year, then the war, and then eighth year, no breaks. It would be crazy to go straight out for advanced studies or work. We’ve earned some time off.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Harry nodded. “I just want to sit out in the garden and have a Butterbeer and do nothing for the next month.”

“Look, doxy eggs,” Ron pointed eagerly. “Maybe we could whip up a girding potion, invite a few birds over, if you know what I mean.” He looked up apologetically, “Or blokes. You know. For you. Or whatever.”

“Just because Hermione is on another continent, that doesn’t mean you can cheat on her,” Harry delicately ignored Ron’s clumsy attempt to be inclusive of his sexual preferences.

“I wouldn’t really do anything,” Ron muttered. “But what kind of parties are we going to have, then?”

“I don’t need any parties,” Harry said as they rounded the corner into the next aisle. “I could do with some peace and quiet, actually.”

“Boring,” Ron lolled his head back and snored loudly. Harry socked him in the arm.

“Let’s have a look at the coolers back there,” Harry pointed towards the back of the store, where the crowd was lighter.

“Coolers?” Ron followed him on his heels.

“Looks like food ingredients,” Harry peered into the magically chilled cases. “What does your Mum already have in the pantry? We could grab a few things on our way out.”

“Just the basics, meat pies and pumpkin juice, that sort of thing,” Ron said. “The reconstruction only just finished so she hasn’t had much time to stock up or put ready meals in storage.”

“Maybe that’s reason enough not to throw any parties,” Harry hefted a case of Butterbeer in each hand. “Imagine how your parents would react if they came home and found the house trashed so soon after rebuilding it.”

“Stop being so responsible,” Ron grumbled. “You sound like Hermione.”

“Well well, if it isn’t Weasleby and Saint Potter.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron closed his eyes and groaned.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry immediately tensed up.

Their blond schoolmate smirked haughtily, his chin raised and his eyebrow quirked. He leaned casually on an endcap that was stacked with jars of damselfly wings, his feet crossed at the ankles like he hadn’t a care in the world. His lips parted in a toothy grin, an expression Harry hadn’t seen on his face in ages. Eighth year had been quiet, with none of the familiar rivalry that had marked their previous years. Seeing Draco in all of his mocking glory after so long was disorienting.

“Let’s just pay for these and go,” Harry said. “I don’t need any potion ingredients right now anyway.”

“Aw, don’t leave on my account,” Draco called after them.

They circled around the far end of the store and headed up a narrow, cluttered aisle filled with smelly distillations and botanical preparations.

“Faugh,” Ron waved his hand in front of his nose. “It smells like arse over here.”

“Cut over one aisle,” Harry pushed Ron between a gap in the shelves in the hopes of escaping the odor. They stumbled as they nearly collided with Draco.

“Again?” the former Slytherin stopped abruptly. “Are you following me?”

“You approached us, Malfoy,” Harry reminded him.

“I went my own way, yet here you are again, nearly knocking me down in your haste to cut me off,” Draco said. He jerked his head to toss his blond forelock back from his eyes. His hair was neatly trimmed around the sides and back, but the front was grown out a bit, long enough to obscure his vision if not combed back. Harry frowned. The style was unnecessarily eye-catching, he thought.

“We weren’t following you, ferret face,” Ron snapped. “We were trying to get out of that smelly aisle.”

“Then by all means, proceed,” Draco waved his hand with a flourish. He eyed Harry and cocked his head inquisitively. Harry jumped, realizing belatedly that his eyes had lingered too long.

“Let’s go,” Ron retrieved one of the cases of Butterbeer from Harry’s grip and shuffled down the aisle.

“See you around, Potter,” Draco said smoothly.

“Right, Malfoy,” Harry muttered, shuffling after Ron.

They came around the end of the aisle and paused as they took in the length of the queue at the payment counter. Harry hefted the Butterbeer and wondered if it was worth it, when the package shop at the end of the street would probably have shorter lines. Ron chewed his lip, undoubtedly making the same calculation.

“Put them back?” Harry asked.

“Put them back,” Ron nodded.

They hurried back down the aisle to the cooler section and returned the cases to the stack near the wall. They turned around and without a word returned to the front through an aisle filled with bottled hexes. There ahead of them was Draco Malfoy, inspecting the information card on a small phial.

“Honestly,” Draco looked up as they drew near. “It’s like Hogwarts all over again.”

“Mind your business, Malfoy,” Ron sneered. “You haven’t talked to us in months, no need to start now.”

“I’m not enjoying this waltz down memory lane either,” Draco sneered in return.

“We’re not following you,” Harry said. He noticed that Draco was dressed in trousers and a jacket, in spite of the unseasonably warm June weather. The jacket was cut nicely, emphasizing the way his shoulders had broadened over the last year, and tapering down to his slim hips. He cursed himself as he realized his eyes were lingering too long again.

“All the same, I’m looking forward to your departure,” Draco went back to the information card on the phial.

“What an unbelievable prat,” Ron sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”

They swept past Draco without another word. Harry thought he caught a whiff of cologne, something spicy and smoky, although he could admit that it might just be the store inventory.

“Hey Weasel,” Draco called, hauling them up short. “Catch.”

A small glass sphere flew through the air directly at their heads. Harry ducked, but Ron reflexively reached out to catch it. He fumbled and it slipped through his fingers, shattering on the floor beneath his feet. A thick blue smoke billowed out, its volume disproportionate to the size of the container.

“Ron!” Harry shouted as the mist swirled and engulfed him. Ron disappeared into the cloud, completely surrounded by the opaque vapor. And then a baby’s cry split the air.

“What did you do?” Harry gasped, whirling on Draco, who looked completely stunned.

“It was supposed to give him stomach wind,” Draco stared down at the information card in his hand, jaw slack and eyes wide. “Someone must have switched them.”

The smoke dissipated quickly, revealing a baby swaddled in a pile of Ron’s clothing. The baby cried, its face screwed up and eyes clenched shut. Harry gawked at it, noting the tuft of ginger hair on its head. He knew what had happened before Draco spoke.

“He turned into a baby,” he murmured.

“What did you do?” Harry repeated.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Draco looked up, his eyes desperate. “Look at the card, it was supposed to give him wind.”

“It did more than give him wind,” Harry stared at the squalling baby on the floor. “What are we going to do now?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Quick, wrap him up.”

“In what? All I’ve got is a shirt and trousers.”

“Use the shirt, wrap it around him and pick him up."

"Someone is going to see us."

"Not if you hurry up!"

Harry knelt before the crying newborn and folded Ron's oversized muggle t-shirt around him. He tucked the arms in and then carefully lifted him into his arms. The baby's cries quieted and he mewled softly as Harry instinctively rocked him. 

"Get the rest of his clothing and let's get out of here," Harry hissed. Draco scooped up the trousers, pants, socks and shoes and followed him to the front. They exited as casually as they could, acting as though nothing was amiss. But as soon as they were outside the facade cracked. 

"What are we going to do?" Harry squeaked. The newborn yawned and thrust a tiny fist into the air "is this really Ron?"

"Of course that's him," Draco scowled. "And what do you mean we? He's your friend, he's your problem."

"You did this to him!"

"It was an accident!"

"So what? It's still your fault!"

"Look, Potter," Draco set Ron's clothes on the ground and backed away. "I'm sorry, it was an accident, but I don't know how to fix this."

"Don't you leave, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "You're on probation, remember? If you leave I'll go straight to the Ministry's Pensive and show them what happened."

Draco halted his retreat. "You would send me to Azkaban over an accident?"

"I don't want to," Harry said. "I want you to help me."

"I don't know how to help you," Draco's eyes were desperate. Harry's threat had struck him hard. 

"Help me think, what do we do?" Harry was nearly panicked. His best friend was a baby and he had no idea how to change him back. 

"Okay," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Let's be practical. We need to figure out which hex I threw. But in the meantime he's a baby and that means we need milk and nappies."

"Nappies," Harry groaned.

"I'll go back into the store and see if I can find the right information card," Draco continued. "I'll also see if they have any baby supplies. There's a chemist area along the far wall. You wait here."

"Don't you dare leave," Harry's panic rose again. "If you go in there and Disapparate i'll go straight to the Ministry." 

"I'm not leaving!" Draco yelled. The baby startled and began crying again. 

"Just go," Harry snapped as he rocked and shushed Ron, trying to calm him as best he could.

Draco darted inside and disappeared into the crowd. Harry paced anxiously, cooing and bouncing and rocking and humming, but Ron continued to cry. Harry thought he might cry, too. He didn't understand how a little baby had him so rattled. He had faced the Dark Lord Voldemort with less fear.

"It's okay, mate," he murmured to the infant in his arms. "We'll figure out how to get you back."

"Do you need help with your baby?" A kind voice said behind him. Harry whirled around guiltily and met the gaze of a sweet old witch in a powder blue peaked hat.

"I," Harry paused with his mouth agape, at a loss for an answer.

"New fathers," she tutted. "What's that you have him wrapped in? Is that a shirt?"

"I," Harry shook his head helplessly. 

"Hold him, let me have that," she gently unswaddled Ron and handed him over. With a swish and a flick she transfigured the t-shirt into a blanket and re-swaddled him in a neat little bundle. 

"You might also consider a nappy," she said. "What are you doing out with a baby before you know how to care for him?"

"My wife is ill," Harry blurted out. "I've never cared for a baby by myself before."

"Do you know how to feed him?" She frowned. "How often? How to heat a bottle?"

"Yes," Harry lied. "It's all the other stuff I still need to learn."

Just then Draco burst through the door of the shop with an armful of packages. "They had milk and formula potions and I found a book on--" he hauled up short at the sight of the old woman. 

"Well at least you have a friend to help," she chuckled. "Between the two of you, you should be fine. There's no magic to it," she winked. "Good luck, I hope your wife's health improves."

"Thank you," Harry smiled weakly. She hobbled away, muttering and tutting to herself about new parents.

"Wife?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What was I supposed to say?" Harry asked. "That this is my best mate and our school bully is in the store buying nappies?"

"Nappies!" Draco smacked his forehead. "I forgot."

"Don’t worry about it," Harry held his hand out and beckoned Draco closer. "Let's get him back to the Burrow and feed him before he starts crying again. I'm sure Molly still has some cloth nappies around somewhere."

"What? I'm not going with you," Draco looked horrified.

"You bloody well are too!" Harry shouted. Ron started crying again. "You are not leaving me to deal with this by myself. You're going to help me fix him."

"I got you the information card," Draco tried to shove the armful of packages at him. 

"Fuck off, Malfoy, you're coming with me," Harry pushed the packages back into Draco's arms. They glowered at each other, the crying baby filling the air between them.

“I can’t help you, Potter--”

Harry lunged and seized Draco by the elbow, then Disapparated with a sharp pop. In a swirl and a squeeze they landed in the yard in front of the Burrow. Draco yanked his arm away and staggered back.

“Did you just Disapparate with a baby?” he gasped. “You can’t Disapparate with a baby! It’s bad for them!”

“It is?” Harry stared down at the stunned infant in his arms. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ron, you’re okay. Help me, Malfoy.”

“Give him to me,” Draco lifted him from Harry’s arms and cradled him close to his chest. He held a hand above Ron’s head and murmured a soft incantation. Terrifying seconds ticked past as he chanted, then suddenly the baby snapped out of it and wailed tremulously. Harry’s head swam with relief.

“Fucking Merlin,” Harry wiped his sweating brow with his hand.

“Are you an utter fool?” Malfoy looked up angrily, still holding Ron close. “You could have killed him.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry said. “I need your help.”

“Obviously.”

Draco carefully handed Ron back and hefted his bundle of packages. He looked up at the ramshackle assembly of building materials, the chaos of chimneys and add-ons, and hesitated. 

"I heard their home was destroyed," he said. "I didn't realize they were still living in the rubble."

"This is the new house," Harry said. "They rebuilt it exactly as it was before."

"So this is the rebuilt house," Draco's eyebrows shot up. "This isn't the destroyed bit?"

"No, arsehole," Harry glared at him. "This is their home and they love it exactly as it is."

"Don't get tetchy with me," Draco said. "I'll bet anyone seeing it for the first time might get the wrong idea."

"Come on," Harry grumbled. He pushed his way inside and felt the familiar wash of welcoming comfort that he always felt here. He didn't care what Draco said, the Burrow was exactly what every good home should be. 

Draco went straight to the kitchen and rummaged around until he found a pitcher. He poured in a measure of milk and read the label on a phial.

"What is that?" Harry hushed and rocked Ron as he began to fuss. 

"Turns cow's milk into mother's milk," Draco muttered, squinting at the instructions. He poured it in and uttered a short incantation while stirring with a wooden spoon. He dipped his pinky in and tasted it. "I guess that's right, but what do I know." He grimaced, "it's even body temperature."

He fished a bottle and nipple out of the bundle of purchases and poured in a few ounces. Harry retrieved it and touched it to Ron's lower lip, sighing in relief as he latched and began to suckle.

"The pitcher is fine to stay out until it's gone," Draco went back to reading the label. "I bought a few extras so you should be set for a while. If you need more you should take the Floo to Hogsmeade." He rifled through the packages again. "I found a book, too. What to Expect When You're Expecting, Magical Edition."

"I'm not expecting," Harry said. "That's a pregnancy book."

"Well I also got you one on newborn and infant care," Draco rolled his eyes.

"I don't like the way you keep saying you," Harry said. "You're in this with me until we figure out how to fix it."

"Potter," Draco groaned.

Harry returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. Ron's eyes fluttered sleepily as he nursed, grunting softly with every swallow. He had worked one tiny hand free from the swaddle and held it up above his head as he drank, his little fingers opening and closing in a fist. Draco slouched to an armchair and sat, his head tossed back onto the cushion in a showy display of misery. Harry didn't care. He could be as miserable as he wanted, as long as he stayed. 

When the bottle was empty Ron released the nipple and sighed, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes closed and his breathing became slow and measured. Harry set the bottle down and felt some of the fear drain out of him.

"Take him," he whispered, leaning forward to pass him to his former rival. "I'm going to go look for nappies."

"Hurry," Draco said. "With a belly this full I'm sure he'll be ready to go soon."

Harry crept up the stairs to the linen closet next to Ginny’s room on the first floor. He tossed open the gatefold doors and scanned the contents for anything that looked like it was meant to capture baby waste. Finally he said “Accio nappies,” and jumped back as a dozen white square cloths threw themselves at him. “Accio pins,” he said, but nothing responded. He checked the cloths and found one with a legible label, which claimed to be a self-sealing nappy. He shrugged and closed the closet door.

Harry returned to the living room and paused at the bottom of the stairs to marvel at the sight before him. Draco was hunched over Ron, rocking gently from side to side and humming. His long, blond forelock dangled over the sleeping baby’s face as he cradled him in his arms. Never in his life would Harry have expected to see such a thing.

He was such a contrast to his surroundings. The Burrow had been restored to perfection, which included all of the mismatched furniture and well-worn upholstery. Every inch of every table and shelf was crammed with odds and ends, and the clutter imparted a warm familiarity to the space, even to the newest newcomer. 

Draco, on the other hand, was all crisp lines and black tailored fabric, impeccably fitted without a loose thread or wrinkled cuff to be seen. He was a study in juxtaposition, hard and dark against the soft warmth of the Weasleys’ home. Add in the baby and it was nearly incomprehensible to the sensible eye.

Draco looked up, the gentle expression on his face held for just a fleeting moment before he caught himself and reset to the more familiar cold sneer. He knew Harry had seen him, and he didn’t like it.

“I found self-sealing nappies,” Harry held up the stack of white cloth.

“Are they self-cleaning, too?” Draco asked.

“I’ll Scourgify them,” Harry set them down on the seat of another armchair and sat on the end of the sofa near Draco’s knees. He reached out and touched Ron’s head, marveling at the already distinctive ginger hair.

“You can’t scourgify cotton,” Draco said. “You’ll rough the weave.”

“Says you,” Harry curled his lip.

“Do whatever you want,” Draco aborted a shrug, reluctant to disturb the sleeping child. “When he’s wailing at you because you’ve swaddled him burlap, you’ll wish you listened to me.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Harry said. “We need to figure out what you threw at him so we can reverse it.”

“There’s an information card in the bag,” Draco nodded towards the kitchen. “Take him with you, I don’t want to hold him.”

Harry didn’t believe him for an instant. He’d seen the soft look in Draco’s eye. But instead of arguing he lifted Ron from his arms and carried him into the kitchen. He shuffled through the assortment of packaged items until he found a small square of linen paper that was inscripted with fine calligraphy. He took it back into the living room and handed it to Draco, who was inspecting his nails as though bored.

“Juvenis Mensem,” Draco read. “This hex reverts the recipient to infancy, wherein he will age to present over the course of one month.”

“So that means it will fix itself?” Harry felt hope flare to life in his chest. “One month and he’s back to normal, right?”

“That’s what it says,” Draco drawled, tossing the square onto the table. He leaned on his elbow and eyed Harry coolly. “So you won’t really need me after all. He’ll grow up soon enough.”

“Bollocks,” Harry spat. “He’s a baby right now, isn’t he? That’s what I need help with.” He pushed Ron into Draco’s arms again. “I need to see if Molly still has a crib.”

“Wait,” Draco stood and followed him, protesting all the way up five flights of stairs to Ron’s room at the top of the house. “Salazar’s pants, Potter, how many floors does this place have?”

Harry didn't answer, instead focusing on accessing the hatch to the attic and clambering up to the rafters. Draco ducked into Ron's room to escape the sprinkling of dust that fluttered down. Harry marveled that the reconstruction had even replaced the dust. He hoped that meant the long forgotten items in storage had been replaced, too. 

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. In the corner beneath a vent he spied a suspicious mound of white sheet that clearly covered something the Weasleys wanted to protect. He swept the sheet aside and grinned at his good fortune. 

"Found it!" he called. He cast a quick Scourgify to clear away the fine film of disuse and then levitated it across the space and down through the hatch. 

"That's your idea of a crib, is it?" Draco called up softly, so as not to disturb Ron's slumber. "It looks like something from the twelfth century."

"Some things never go obsolete," Harry grunted as lowered himself to the floor and closed up the access panel. "We'll cover it in a blanket, and then we can lay him down to sleep. No reason to have to hold him every second."

"Where do you want to put it?" Draco nodded over his shoulder. "My guess is that this is his room, the bloody git."

"Not all the way up here," Harry said. "We'll put him down in the living room so we won't have to keep going up and down stairs."

"There you go with that 'we' business again," Draco grumbled.

They made their way down the stairs with the crib levitated before them. Harry found a sheet in the linen closet and set everything up near the sofa. Draco pushed Ron into Harry's arms and pointed at the pile of nappies. 

"Wrap his knob before he wees everywhere," he said.

Harry knelt on the rug and laid Ron in front of him. He drew a nappy from the pile and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“He looks bigger already, doesn’t he?” he sat back on his heels. “He looks like a proper baby, not like a wrinkly old man.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

Harry sighed and smoothed out the nappy on the floor with the flat edge pointed up. Then he turned it a quarter turn so a corner was pointing up. Then he folded it over into a triangle. Then he unfolded it and smoothed it out again.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Draco said. Harry looked up at him and knew it would be pointless to deny it. Draco’s lip was curled in his trademark sneer, but it lacked guile, much to Harry’s relief.

“Do you know how to do it?” he asked.

“No, but it doesn’t take a genius to fold a nappy,” Draco knelt next to him and poked an elbow into his ribs to shove him aside. He lifted the cloth and squinted at the label, then nodded. “Unwrap him.”

Harry took a deep breath and untucked the ends of the blanket, releasing the burrito roll of swaddle and exposing the naked baby that was his best mate. Ron opened his eyes and tucked his legs and arms in with a small squeal.

“Sorry to tell you, Weasley,” Draco said with a smirk, “from what I hear that’s as big as it’s going to get.”

“Malfoy,” Harry shoved him in the arm, toppling him over. “Don’t say mean things to babies.” Still, he couldn’t quite squash a snicker.

“All right, let’s not get rowdy,” Draco straightened his collar and his expression. “Now then, lift his bum and I’ll slide it underneath.” Harry obeyed, grasping Ron’s chubby ankles and hoisting him up from the rug. Draco slipped the nappy beneath him and Harry lowered him onto the white cotton square.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we say--”

An arc of urine issued forth, fountaining with astonishing height in a pale yellow stream. In the blink of an eye Harry’s t-shirt and Draco’s jacket were wet from the golden shower. They both scrambled back, shouting and waving and panicking.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Harry’s voice cracked. “It’s all over me!”

“This jacket is custom tailored, Potter!” Draco yelled back.

“Well if you’d taken it off like a normal person it wouldn’t have gotten weed on, would it?” Harry plucked at his shirt, horrified by the wet slash down the front. Down on the rug Ron giggled and kicked his tiny feet.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you, Weasley?” Draco shucked his jacket and tossed it onto the armchair near the fireplace. “Well you’re just a baby. Who’s laughing now?”

“Are you picking a fight with an infant?” Harry pointed at the cloth. “Just do the incantation and get him covered up.”

Draco shot him a withering look and knelt beside him again. The sleeve of his black button-down shirt brushed against Harry’s elbow, its silky texture sending a shiver up his arm. He grasped Ron’s legs and positioned him, then intoned, “Diparius Enrobium.” The white cloth sprang to life and folded itself around the baby’s bottom. The ends tucked in and sealed tightly, creating a neat barrier between his bits and the outside world.

“Well that was an adventure,” Harry muttered. “I need to get out of this.” He yanked his shirt over his head, trying to keep the wet spot from touching his face. In his haste his glasses came off and clattered to the floor. “Bollocks,” he tossed the shirt away and looked around for his spectacles.

“Here,” Draco held his glasses out, his cheeks inexplicably pink and his eyes carefully averted.

“Thanks,” Harry plucked them from his hand and slipped them back onto his face. He wondered at Draco’s sudden discomfort. He knew he had a nice body, passable by most standards at the very least. He wondered if... no, fate wouldn’t be that kind.

“He needs some clothes,” Draco rewrapped the swaddle and retreated to the sofa with Ron in his arms. “He can’t just go about with nothing on.”

“Right,” Harry shook his head and went back up the stairs to the attic. He wondered fleetingly whether Draco was talking to him or the baby.


	3. Chapter 3

"I had plans tonight, you know," Draco glowered at Harry across the kitchen. "I'm supposed to be meeting Pansy and Blaise for supper."

"My plans have been interrupted, too," Harry snapped. 

"Hot date?" Draco sneered. "Another mousy girl you'll barely speak to in public?"

"No," Harry couldn't begin to argue everything that was wrong with that statement. "The Weasleys are all in Romania. Ron and I were going to spend the month relaxing. You know, some peace and quiet. Maybe a party or two."

"It sounds like you two make a wonderful couple."

Harry whirled around and glared at Draco. His chin was raised and he was grinning with that infuriating quirk that meant he knew he was getting under Harry's skin. Of course that probably also meant he didn't really know anything, he had only said it to get a rise out of him. 

"Not as wonderful as you and Blaise," Harry went back to stirring the pitcher of milk.

"As if," Draco snorted. "I'm way out of his league. Besides, Pansy would string him up by his cock and balls."

"Language," Harry chided. 

"Oh sorry, his rod and tackle. His meat and two veg. His bits and bobs. Which expression do you think is least offensive to a bloody baby?" Draco's voice dripped with contempt.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. "You and Pansy are still an item?"

"That's even less plausible than Blaise."

"So who are you seeing?" Harry led the way back to the living room, where Ron was fussing in his crib. 

"No one," Draco said. "What do you care?"

"I don't. I'm just making conversation."

"Well it's not like I can't get someone," Draco sat on the opposite side of the sofa and glared as Ron began to nurse. "I'm seeing someone tonight, as a matter of fact."

"You said you're going out with Blaise and Pansy.” 

"It's a double date," Draco said. "Pansy is setting me up."

"Sounds lovely. What's his name?" Harry shot back the same kind of joke Draco had lobbed at him earlier.

"Very funny," Draco fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt. 

"A little too close to home, Malfoy?" Harry teased. "Come on, tell me the little bugger's name. I'm sure he's very handsome."

"You're a prat, you know that?" Draco stood and snatched his damp jacket from the armchair. "I guess you don't need my help after all."

"Malfoy--"

"His name is David, okay?" Draco snapped. "That's right, a man. Happy now? Maybe when Weasley grows up you two can add it to your list of things to mock me for."

"Malfoy, I--"

"I'm going out," Draco cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I'll be back in a few hours. If you go to the Ministry and turn me in over this then you're a bigger arsehole than I ever imagined."

"I'm not going to the Ministry," Harry said, stunned by his sudden change in attitude.

Malfoy rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath. He eyed Harry with something he might have called regret. Then he turned and went to the kitchen fireplace and stepped through the Floo. 

Harry told himself that he would be fine. He was surprised Draco had stuck around as long as he had. Perhaps he would come back later, but he doubted it. And since Harry had admitted that he wouldn't turn him in to the Ministry for throwing a hex on probation he had no more leverage.

But what a revelation. Draco Malfoy was into men! Harry would have never guessed, in fact if he'd suspected even for an instant he would have never joked about it. Harry felt a pang of guilt for acting like just another bigot rather than a kindred spirit. 

"Did you hear that, Ron?" Harry cooed in a soothing voice. "Draco Malfoy is queer. What do you think about that?"

Ron released the bottle nipple and grunted. He screwed his eyes shut and pushed with another grunt. Then he sighed and went back to nursing. 

"Thanks, mate," Harry groaned as the smell of poo reached his nose.

He actually managed better than he expected on his own. He ran into a bit of a bind when he went to change Ron's diaper and had nothing to wipe him with, but an old flannel and a pledge to Scourgify it twice took care of things quite nicely. He rummaged through the attic again while Ron was sleeping off his bottle and found a box filled with old baby clothes, which he retrieved and brought back down to the living room to sort through. He found rompers and onesies, all in varying sizes.

He dressed the sleeping baby in a set of footie pyjamas with a picture of a bear over the tummy. His heart squeezed at the sight. If he ignored the fact that this was his best mate of eight years he could feel a swell of paternal caring deep down inside. He touched the baby's cheek with his fingertip and kissed him on top of his ginger head.

That was when it all went wrong. Ron's eyes flew open and welled up with tears. He opened his mouth and cried shrilly, angrily, turning nearly purple from the effort. His little fists pummeled the air and his legs kicked furiously. 

"What's wrong?" Harry's heart leapt into his throat. He picked Ron up and bounced and rocked and shushed him. "You're okay, you're okay."

He thought maybe it was an air bubble and cursed himself for not burping him after his bottle. He propped Ron up on his shoulder and patted, shushing and bouncing and trying not to let the baby's keening unhinge his confidence. After a few minutes of patting the baby finally belched gustily. Harry sighed with relief. And then he felt the hot wet mess down the back of his shirt. And then Ron started crying again. 

"No no no," Harry held Ron out in front of him and craned his neck to see the spit-up. There was a large streak of regurgitated milk down his back, although the baby had managed to keep himself clean. "Wait here," Harry set Ron down in his crib and bolted for the stairs. The baby screamed angrily, unmollified by the burp.

"I can't help you if I'm all wet!" Harry ducked into George and Fred's old room and rifled through his bag. He yanked off his second shirt of the day and pulled another over his head. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" He thudded back down the stairs.

He hoisted Ron to his shoulder again, this time laying a clean nappy beneath him to catch any additional vomit. He shushed and bounced and paced but no more burps emerged, and Ron continued to cry. 

Harry tried everything in his small repertoire, to no avail. He checked the books Malfoy had bought but found them nearly useless. He washed the bottle and refilled it but Ron refused to latch. He pushed the bottle away from his mouth and turned his head without a pause in his fury. 

Hours passed. Harry walked and rocked and sang loudly as Ron cried. He moaned pitifully to himself as the noise shattered his nerves. He sang made-up lyrics to nursery rhymes to try to keep his sanity. 

"Jack be nimble Jack be quick, Jack throw an Avada Kedavra at me and put me out of my misery," Harry sang. "Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and so was I until fucking Malfoy hexed my best mate into a baby!"

By midnight Harry was defeated. He sat sprawled on the floor, his brain blank and numb, exhausted from his efforts to soothe the colicky child. He vacillated between hysterical laughter and strangled moans. He felt with certainty that it wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of the night, if it was light and sunny out, if he wasn't so exhausted.

He missed the whoosh of the Floo and nearly dismissed Draco's sudden appearance as the hallucination of a desperate mind. Draco stood aghast in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth gaped at the sight before him. Harry didn't get up, he just rocked and hummed and tried not to scream. 

"What happened?" Draco demanded. "How long has this been going on?" He looked around the room. "Is that a shitty flannel on the floor? Is that vomit on the rug?"

Harry's face crumpled. He shrugged helplessly and kept rocking and fought to keep the despair at bay. 

"Give him here," Draco knelt and gently took Ron from Harry's arms. Harry nearly choked on a relieved sob that threatened to escape.

Draco cooed at the baby and checked his face and head. He inspected his waving hands and then laid him on the floor. Unwrapping the swaddle, he spread the blanket around and checked Ron's arms and legs. Then he unbuttoned his romper and inspected his neck, chest, tummy and back. Frowning, he released the sealing charm on the diaper and had a look at his bum. Finally he tugged the jammies off of his feet. 

"There it is," he murmured. Harry crawled over on hands and knees to see what he had found. A tiny loop of a loose thread had wound itself around one of Ron's toes and was rubbing the webbing raw. Draco freed the toe and snapped the thread off. Immediately Ron hushed, exhausted from his hours of crying. 

"How did--" Harry sat back on his heels in astonishment. "I tried everything. How did you know?"

"I didn't," Draco looked up, his expression shockingly free of judgment. "But if you look at it logically, there had to be something bothering him."

"Why didn't I try that?" Harry moaned, wobbling and wishing he could leave forever. "I'm terrible at this."

"Go get some healing salve so I can get him dressed," Draco said. Harry hobbled to the loo on weak legs and found a jar, which Draco accepted without commentary. When Ron's toe was slathered and healed, Draco resealed his nappy and buttoned up his romper.

Harry stood uselessly to the side, feeling like a failure and guilty about his reluctance to pick Ron up again. Draco didn't offer, instead he went to the sofa and sat, offering the bottle that was refused earlier. Ron latched and sucked greedily. 

"You need sleep," Draco said matter-of-factly. "You've been at this for hours and you look exhausted."

"But you--"

"Go lie down, Potter," Draco said. "You're no good to me or Weasley if you're knackered."

Harry hesitated again but Draco nestled into the sofa cushions and propped the baby up more comfortably. He looked up with an annoyed sneer and shook his head. 

"Okay, I'm going," Harry muttered.

He trudged up two flights of stairs to the twins' old room and fell in a heap on George's bed. He didn't even have a chance to remove his trousers before sleep swept him away.

Three hours later Harry awoke in a panic. His overwrought adrenaline system was still pumping residual anxiety from the evening's events. He shot straight up in bed, confused and disoriented, scrambling for his glasses and his wand. 

Oh wait, he was at the Burrow. Oh wait, Ron had been turned into a baby. Oh wait, Draco Malfoy was supposed to be watching him. The world had gone mad.

He listened carefully in the darkness. He heard no baby cries, no talking or singing. Had Draco left? What if Ron had been left on his own? Draco had never liked Ron, what if he thought he would sneak out while Harry was asleep? He ran for the door, belatedly checking to make sure his trousers were buttoned. He burst into the living room with his heart in his throat, expecting the worst. 

Instead Draco was reclined in an armchair, his legs propped up on an overstuffed ottoman, asleep with his mouth hanging open. And there on his chest, secure in his arms, was the baby. They were cuddled together, their chests moving in a synchronized rise and fall of quiet breath.

Draco's stocking feet were exposed, and Harry had to stifle a smirk as he noted that one of his socks had a small hole in it. It seemed like a detail that he would find terribly annoying.

Harry crept across the room and lifted Ron from Draco's arms, wandlessly waving over a throw pillow to fill the vacant space. Ron was definitely bigger now, months older than he had been when he first changed. Harry laid him carefully in the crib and watched for a moment to make sure he didn't wake up.

He then drew one of Molly's hand-knitted blankets over Draco and lightly tucked it around his arms. No need to rouse him and offer a bed, better to just let him sleep. He watched the gentle flicker of Draco's eyelashes as he slumbered and just for a moment felt the urge to brush his hair back from his forehead. Squashing down the impulse he crept upstairs and went back to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Potter! Come quickly!"

Harry leapt out of bed again and ran for the stairs. He clattered down two flights and flew into the living room. He frantically scanned the room for the source of trouble. 

"He's crawling!" Draco looked up from the floor with an astonished laugh. His brow furrowed. "What are you so worked up over?"

"Merlin, Malfoy, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Harry collapsed onto a chair. 

"You should relax, Potter," Draco went back to the baby with a delighted grin. "That's right, come on, you can do it!"

"I never would have guessed that you'd have such a maternal instinct," Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes.

"Sod off," Draco bent down and gave Ron a silly grin. "Can you say sod off? Say sod off, Uncle Potter!"

"Wanker," Harry went to the kitchen and checked the ice box. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet," Draco said. "Speaking of which I think chubby here is ready for something more substantial than milk. Aren't you? Yes you are."

"All I have is bread and a few eggs," Harry remembered that his shopping trip with Ron had been cut short. 

"I take mine over easy."

Harry rolled his eyes and set a pan on the stove. A moment later Draco wandered in and sat gracefully at the table. He looked around at the shabby, comfortable kitchen and propped his feet up on a second chair.

"You should go shower," Harry said. He could feel Draco's eyes on his back.

"I need a change of clothes, too," Draco said. "I'll just pop home for a couple minutes."

Harry turned and met his eye, anxiety immediately returning. Was he making up a reason to leave again? The last time he'd left Ron had cried for hours. 

"Don't panic, I'll be back in no time," Draco stood and stretched. "Can't have you going to the Ministry and ruining my life."

Harry swallowed hard. He wanted to remind him that he'd already taken that threat back, but was afraid it was the only thing that would keep him from being left alone with the baby.

"Back in a bit," Draco dropped a hand onto Harry's shoulder before catching himself and yanking it back with a scowl. "Saint bloody Potter," he cursed under his breath, then disappeared through the Floo.

Harry went back to the stove and then realized with a start that Ron was unattended. He rushed to the living room and was greeted with a laugh and a pair of waving fists. Draco had moved the furniture to create an enclosed space, a temporary playpen to contain the baby's movements. Ron's big blue eyes sparkled as he laughed at Harry, his bright ginger hair standing up in fuzzy spikes.

"Did you make a poo, Ron?" Harry asked as a pungent smell reached his nose. Ron laughed again.

Harry returned to the kitchen to plate the eggs and turn off the flame. He changed Ron and ruined another flannel in the process, so he promised himself that he would buy Molly a whole new set. He washed up and poured a bottle for Ron, and when he was happily nursing away Harry returned to the kitchen to eat. 

The eggs were cold. 

He sighed and put the pan back on the stove. Draco arrived through the Floo a moment later and swept the plate of eggs to the table without a word. He took a bite and spat it out. 

"These eggs are cold," he complained. Harry shot him a nasty look. "Are those mine?" He pointed his fork at the stove.

Harry sighed and scooped the freshly cooked eggs onto Draco's plate and cracked two more.

"I said over easy," Draco said. "These are over hard."

Harry shot him a nastier look.

"You make a terrible housewife," Draco added.

"You want this pan across your head, Malfoy?"

"Where's my toast?"

Ron giggled loudly from the living room. Draco went to have a look and covered his nose. "Faugh, what did you do, Weasley?"

"Again? This one is yours. I just changed him and I haven't eaten yet," Harry said, peering over Draco’s shoulder.

"How can you think of eating at a time like this?" Draco stepped over the barricade and prepared himself for the worst.

"I'm starving," Harry said. "I didn't get supper last night."

"Well why didn't you say so?" Draco asked, unbuttoning Ron's onesie. "Standing around talking instead of eating, that's just daft. Tell him, Weasley. Say, Uncle Potter, you're completely daft."

Harry ground his teeth and dug into his fried eggs. He was so hungry that he didn't care that this batch was already cold, too. When he was done he went upstairs for a shower, leaving Draco's loud protests over handling poopy nappies behind.

"It's worse than a Cruciatus Curse, Potter!" Draco shouted after him.

Harry closed the bathroom door with a bang, just to emphasize his departure. He sat on the loo while the water heated and rubbed his tired eyes. It had been one day, less than twenty-four hours. How was he so knackered already?

The shower was absolute heaven. Harry couldn't believe he had been peed and vomited on but hadn't showered until this moment. When he looked for soap he remembered that Ginny was the only one using this bathroom anymore, now that Percy and George had moved out. Which meant his only option was to wash with the feminine scent of gardenias and honeysuckle.

He sniffed the bar of soap and closed his eyes. A memory of curling up with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room rose to the surface. He remembered holding her closely and kissing her, the floral scent of her soap filling his head. He lathered and inhaled deeply, remembering touching her back and snogging her with his eyes closed, fantasizing about boys he wished he could snog instead. He remembered how he used to avoid touching her hair, her long, soft, feminine hair that no amount of imagination could turn masculine. He remembered avoiding her breasts, instead cupping her arse and imagining a flat chest lying on top of him. When they had broken up, they had done so with a mutual sense of relief. 

He touched himself, his head filled with the scent of a woman that he had come to associate with the fantasy of men. He ran his slick hand over his cock and imagined faceless body parts, arms, legs, shoulders, a strong chest, a firm arse, blond hair--

Harry gasped as he came and braced his hand on the wall. Allowing himself just the tiniest hum of pleasure he smiled and smelled the bar of soap one more time. Gardenias and honeysuckle, his favorite.

The bathroom was filled with steam when he climbed out. Checking himself in the anti-fog charmed mirror he sneered at his messy black hair and knew combing it would be an exercise in futility. He yanked and tugged and tried in vain to push it down flat, but to no avail. He toweled off, running his hands down his flat abdomen and telling himself any man would appreciate what he had to offer. Too bad none had yet. He wondered how Draco's date had gone. And for just the briefest second he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to run his hands down Draco's abdomen. 

He shook it off and pulled his clothes back on. After one last futile pass at his hair he went downstairs and joined Draco and Ron in the kitchen. Draco had transfigured a high chair from one of the dining chairs and was scooping applesauce into Ron's eager little mouth. 

"That was the world's longest wank," Draco said without looking up. 

Harry's cheeks burned. He didn't know anything. He was just jabbing at Harry again with an unfortunate coincidental truth. He decided to ignore it. "Where did you find that?"

"Pantry. I checked, it's still good," Draco looked up with a frown. "Honestly, it's like you didn't even look."

"When was I supposed to look?"

"When I told you earlier that he's ready for real food."

"You mean when I was cooking your breakfast and watching Ron while you left for a relaxing shower?"

"Terrible housewife," Draco shook his head.

A sharp retort manifested on Harry's lips and dried up when he saw the secretive smirk on Draco's face. He was starting to get his sense of humor. It was infuriating and grating, but he could sort of tell what was supposed to be funny. Even though it wasn't, really. 

"This isn't going to hold him for long," Draco scraped the bottom of the container and popped the spoon into Ron's mouth. "We need to go to the store."

"And take him?" Harry frowned. 

"No," Draco shook his head. "He'll slow us down." He raised his chin and called, "Hey Bean, get over here."

A pop from the corner startled Ron, but fortunately he laughed instead of crying. A small house elf crept towards them with his head bowed deferentially. He wore a tiny green tank top that read, "Kiss me, I'm Irish."

"Bean is very well practiced in the art of childcare," Draco said. "He practically raised me. Did all of the messy work, anyway."

"You gave him clothing?" Harry looked at Draco cockeyed. It was so unlikely. 

"Well you know," Draco averted his eyes. "Pansy found a teddy bear in a muggle shop, and it was just about the right size, and It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"So you're a free elf?" Harry asked Bean. The shy creature nodded once. 

"It's no big deal," Draco waved his hand. "Seemed like a lot of wasted energy trying to keep someone who doesn't want to stay."

"Does he treat you well?" Harry asked the elf.

"Yes, sir, Harry Potter, sir. And Bean is loyal to Master Draco," the elf said with his head bowed. 

"Do you find that difficult to believe?" Draco pressed his lips together in annoyance. 

"Yes," Harry said simply. He lifted Ron from the chair and took him to the sink to wash his face and hands. Ron clapped his moist, applesauced palms to Harry's cheeks and blew sloppy raspberries. 

"Fat lot of good that shower did you," Draco laughed in delight at Harry's dismay. 

"Thanks a lot, mate," Harry sighed. He cleaned him up and set him on the rug, then wiped his face.

"Bean, I'd like you to watch Ron while we pop out to the shops for some groceries," Draco said. Bean nodded and with surprising strength for his size he hefted the baby in his arms and carried him into the living room. 

"His name is really Bean?" Harry asked. 

"I like it," Draco shrugged. He put on an overdone posh accent, "Fetch me a glass of wine, old Bean."

"You're a nutter."

"You knew that."

"Yes well," Harry cocked his head. "You're a different flavor of nutter from the one I knew before."

"Maybe I'm the same flavor, but you've never really tasted me before now," Draco raised a suggestive eyebrow. He laughed and pointed, "Look at how uncomfortable you are, Potter."

Harry blushed and looked away. He wasn't inclined to explain that he was uncomfortable because he liked the suggestion, not because it disgusted him.

"Come on, you're holding up the works," Draco plucked at Harry's sleeve and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Hogsmeade," he announced. 

"No wait," Harry stopped him. "I want to go somewhere else." Without explaining he grabbed Draco's elbow and Disapparated.

They arrived in an alley between two brick buildings. It was immediately apparent that he'd taken them to a muggle neighborhood. Draco frowned and yanked his arm out of Harry's grip. 

"That's twice now that you've forced a side-along on me," he snapped. "It would be more polite to ask first."

"Sorry," Harry brushed past him and led the way to the end of the alley. "I need a muggle shop. I want disposable nappies and wipes and tinned baby food."

Draco followed him inside the modern grocery store and gawked at the colorful displays. He stood out in sharp relief in his charcoal gray turtleneck and black trousers. Harry waved him along and pushed a trolley down the first aisle. He picked up a small pack of nappies, some flushable wipes, and several jars of various mushes and purées.

Draco watched for just a moment before piling in boxes of cereal, finger foods, bubble bath, and an assortment of colorful toys. 

"He's not going to be a baby much longer," Harry reminded him. 

"He still needs toys, you cruel bastard."

"And who is paying for this?"

"That's an excellent question. You chose a muggle shop, surely you have muggle currency," Draco lifted the hem of his shirt and pointed at a flat pouch of Galleons that was strapped to his belt. 

"You can owe me," Harry sighed. 

They moved on to another aisle and selected some easy ready-meals that they could pop into the oven in a pinch. Draco dropped two jugs of milk into the trolley and raised a challenging eyebrow. Harry didn't argue. Draco dropped two jugs of wine into the trolley and raised his eyebrow again. Harry didn't argue. 

"How was your hot date last night?" Harry asked as they browsed the butcher counter.

"Why do you have to say it like that, hot date?" Draco sighed. "I realize it makes you uncomfortable, but you don't need to treat it like some tawdry thing."

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable," Harry said. 

"Right, I forgot, the savior of the world and his open-minded acceptance of everyone, oh wait, unless it's me," Draco tossed a packet of crisps into the basket. 

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable, Malfoy," Harry stopped walking and eyed him meaningfully.

"I'm sure you--" Draco turned and met his gaze. His eyes widened and he stepped back as though struck. "Oh."

"I was just teasing you the way you teased me last night," Harry said. Draco ducked his head and looked away, his hands suddenly fidgety and restless. "I really want to know how your date went, with or without the 'hot' part if you prefer."

"I don't know," Draco strode down the beverage aisle away from Harry and their groceries.

"Now who's uncomfortable?" he muttered.

He caught up to Draco at the end of the row. His face was composed and his attitude was cool. He dropped a bottle of cola into the trolley. 

"You don't want to talk about it, I get it," Harry said. "We'll just stick to baby care and keep it professional."

Draco walked silently next to the cart for a few minutes, dropping in an item here and there. Finally he spoke softly, "It was boring. He was perfectly suitable, Pansy knows my type. But I was bored."

"What was wrong with him?" Harry asked. 

"He wasn't--" Draco hauled himself up short. "He was just boring." They continued on for two more aisles before he spoke again. "So are you and Weasley--"

"No!" Harry jumped. "No, no. Definitely not."

"I thought maybe, since you're so worried about him," Draco said. 

"He's my best mate," Harry said. "Like friend, not like mate mate."

"He doesn't bend that way?"

"Even if he did," Harry shuddered. "That's like incest."

"It surprises me," Draco peeked at him from the corner of his eye. "I always wondered if he was the bent one, the way he sank his claws into you so fast." He lifted his chin and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "No one else even got a chance."

Harry paused in confusion but Draco continued on without a hitch in his stride. He whistled casually and found a free register.

"Come on, then."

Harry trundled the trolley through the cashier lane and paid the substantial bill at the end. They hefted their bags, weighed down by milk and wine and soda, and hobbled back down the alleyway. Once hidden from muggle view Draco released his bags and slashed his wand across the handles to levitate them.

"Back to the Burrow?" Harry asked.

"Wait," Draco seized the bags and reached out to grip Harry's arm. He Disapparated and a squeeze-pop later they were standing in an opulent bedroom that was the size of the Burrow's entire ground floor.

Harry stepped back. "Is this your bedroom?"

"Don't worry, Potter," Draco pulled out a drawer on an oversized chest near the window. "If I'm going to get you into bed it will be by my own merit, not a surprise side-along." He paused and looked up as though startled by his own words. "Kidding, of course."

Harry turned and busied himself with a shelf of knick-knacks so Draco wouldn't see the vivid pink flush in his cheeks.

"Here we go," Draco withdrew a black ball with the number eight on one side and a glossy black window on the other. "My magic eight ball."

Harry stared at him like he was mad. "A muggle toy?"

"Did your ears get splinched? Magic eight ball. Not muggle eight ball."

"That's a muggle toy," Harry insisted. "My cousin had one. It constantly said, 'ask again later' until he he got so frustrated that he shook it full of bubbles. Never worked quite right after that."

"That was a muggle version of a real magical artifact," Draco said. "Have a look."

Harry approached cautiously. He had to crowd in close to Draco to see the words in the little window. He caught a whiff of that spicy, smoky scent again, the one he'd caught at SpellMart. It was certainly coming from him. 

"How long does the hex on Ronald Weasley last?" Draco asked. 

The black liquid inside the ball churned and revealed white lettering that read, "One month."

"How old is Ronald Weasley now?" Draco asked. 

The liquid roiled again. "Ten months."

"What time should he be put to bed?" Draco asked. 

"19:00," the ball read. 

"Is he ready for solid food?"

"Yes, soft purées and strained vegetables."

"Those are real answers," Harry marveled.

"Of course they are," Draco sniffed haughtily. "Is Harry Potter a prat?"

"Ask again later."

"See?" Harry pointed. "Just like Dudley's."

"That just means I asked a question that can't be answered empirically," Draco said. He looked up, meeting Harry's gaze. They were standing so close. "So I guess I have to concede that you're not a prat, empirically speaking."

Harry gripped the ball, his fingers overlapping Draco's. "is Draco Malfoy a prat?"

The white print bubbled to the surface. "Ask again later."

They were quiet for a moment, both looking at the undulating words, their fingers still touching. 

"Do you concede?" Draco asked softly.

Harry was afraid to look up. "I concede," he said. 

"Well then," Draco withdrew the ball from Harry's grip. "Let's get back, shall we? I'm sure Weasley is getting hungry by now."

Harry hefted his bags and held Draco's elbow as he Disapparated back to the Burrow. They landed in the yard and both immediately levitated their heavy burdens.

"You didn't have to hold my arm that time," Draco said as they made their way towards the house. "I'm not going to try to escape, not as long as you can go to the Ministry about this."

"Malfoy--"

"The only thing keeping me here is that threat," Draco said pointedly. He held Harry's eyes.

Harry squinted back. There was something there, but it wasn't hostile. He carefully parsed Draco's words and chose his response carefully. 

"Then I guess you're stuck with us," he said. 

"I'll return the favor someday," Draco said darkly, but his voice lacked venom.


	5. Chapter 5

Ron was on his feet, holding onto the edge of the sofa and laughing uproariously as Harry and Draco entered the house. Bean was tumbling across the floor in somersaults and dancing in circles.

"Dada!" Ron squealed as they entered. He grinned at them, displaying two tiny bottom teeth.

"Uh oh," Harry scooped him up and carried him on his hip to the fireplace mantle. He pointed at an animated photo of the entire Weasley clan, "I'm not Dada. That's Dada. And that's Mama."

"And that's you, if that isn't the biggest mind-fuck ever," Draco stepped up close and pointed at Ron's teenage face.

"Language," Harry said.

"Dada," Ron waved his hands at the photo.

"That's right," Harry smiled. "I'm Uncle Harry. And this is Uncle Malfoy."

"Really?" Draco cocked his head. "Uncle Draco. Surely you can pronounce that, Potter. It's the same number of syllables."

"Fine, Uncle Draco," Harry sighed. The name sounded strange on his tongue. 

"In fact, I would say it's probably easier to pronounce," Draco gently removed Ron from Harry's arms. "It rolls off the tongue nicely. Draco."

Ron giggled.

"Yes, that's how you responded the first time you heard it, too," Draco said flatly. "Come on, lets get some food in you, you chubby little wanker."

Draco took Ron into the kitchen and seated him in the highchair. Ron shouted and banged his hands on the tray while Draco unpacked the bags and spoke to his magic eight ball.

"Yes, I know you're hungry. Can he have these puffs? Here, have some puffs. Can he have these strained peas? Is there anything here he can't have?"

Harry sank into the sofa cushions and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of Draco puttering around the kitchen with a soon-to-be toddler. It was comforting and homey and it reminded him of the family he never had. He imagined his own father cradling him and cooing at him, adoring him like Draco tried to pretend he didn't adore baby Ron. Adoring him like the Dursleys never did. It was a sense of home he hoped to provide for his own children one day, if he ever got the chance. 

"Potter! Put the kettle on, you lazy sod."

Harry smiled to himself. Why was it amusing now when it would have set his teeth on edge during school? Age and perspective, perhaps. Or maybe familiarity.

He put the kettle on and made cheese sandwiches, which Draco enthusiastically criticized as he gobbled his up. When they were done Bean cleared the table and took Ron back into the living room. Harry excused himself and went up to the attic to look for toys. He found a box of dancing building blocks and a baby buggy that looked like it would still roll. He bought both downstairs. 

"Let's take him for a walk," Harry said. 

"Outside?" Draco looked up in surprise. 

"No, let's push the buggy around the kitchen," Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Outside," Draco frowned. “What will the neighbors think?"

"What neighbors?"

"Granted," Draco shrugged.

They loaded Ron into the buggy and buckled the seatbelt. They handed him a ring of wooden keys that he could rattle and clack and maneuvered the buggy outside. It was only at the end of the yard where the Weasley property joined up with the dirt service road that Harry realized his great idea may not be so good. 

"Those wheels don't do so well on gravel, do they?" Draco said over the clatter of the buggy. He withdrew his wand and flicked it once, levitating the buggy just a hair, just enough to clear the ground. Suddenly pushing got a lot easier. 

Ron squealed in delight and shook his keys. Draco smiled and didn't try to conceal it when Harry looked at him. He pointed at the fluffy clouds and tried to make Ron look, but he was too busy shaking his toy. 

"Weasley, tell Uncle Potter to slow down and enjoy the sunshine," Draco said. 

"Ron, remind Uncle Draco that he made a point about using last names earlier," Harry said. 

Draco groaned. "Fine, Ron and Uncle Harry."

"It's even the same number of syllables," Harry smirked. 

"You're brilliant, Pot-- Harry," Draco said. 

"See? Not so hard," Harry bumped Draco with his shoulder. Draco looked at him with surprise, then a moment later bumped him back.

They walked for fifteen minutes and then turned back around. Ron's enthusiastic waving slowed, and then stopped, and the wooden keys clattered to the ground as he fell asleep. Draco scooped them up and tucked them beneath one of his pudgy arms. 

"I would have never thought you of all people would take to parenting," Harry said. 

"Why not? I want a huge family," Draco scooped up a handful of rocks and tossed them one by one into the long grassy field that lined the road. "Give them a better life than I had."

"A better life? You had everything you could ask for," Harry marveled. "I don't think any kid ever had as many luxuries as you."

"Luxuries are no substitute for security," Draco tossed another rock. "I don't mean financial security. I mean real security. The kind that makes a kid sure that his parents will love him no matter what."

"Yeah," Harry nodded sadly. 

"When I have children , they'll know their father loves them," Draco said, his voice sharp. "They'll know no one will ever try to sell their fates in exchange for power."

Harry nodded but didn't think it was his place to comment.

"My children," Draco jabbed his finger into the air, "will never have to trade their souls to save their father from Azkaban because their father will never do anything that will get him sent to Azkaban."

Harry instantly regretted threatening his rival with the Ministry's Pensieve. Clearly Azkaban represented a greater fear for him.

"They'll never be asked to protect their family name, they'll never be asked to harm, or kill.” His voice was getting louder and angrier. “They'll never have to know what darkness is. And they'll have each other so they'll never be alone." He was shaking now. "They'll never have to spend days and nights with no one but the house elves to comfort them while monsters roam the halls outside of their bedroom doors. Because their father," he shouted, "will never let the monsters in."

He stopped walking, his hands clenched at his sides in trembling rage. He glared at Harry as a tear traced its way down his cheek.

"My kids," he said through his teeth, "will never need to be saved."

"My kids will never be expected to save anyone," Harry said softly, wishing he could take Draco's hand and show him that he understood. "They'll never have a scar to remind them of their parents' death. They'll never get shipped off to distant relatives who will abuse and starve and enslave them. They'll have their own bedrooms, their own safe, special place that's theirs. No one will hide the truth about who they are. And they'll never be told they have to destroy someone in order to survive."

To Harry's surprise he found himself welling up, too. He dashed the back of his wrist against his eyes and lifted his chin defiantly. He and Draco stared at each other for a moment in shared sorrow and then continued on their way.

"Sounds like we both got the short end of the stick, Potter," Draco said sadly. Then a moment later, almost a whisper, "Harry."

The afternoon was a blur. Diaper changes, feeding, playing, cleaning, constantly attending the busy tot who was rapidly developing towards his first step. They consulted the magic eight ball whenever they didn't know what to do, and around seven Harry popped a frozen lasagna into the oven. Unfortunately it required two hours to cook, which he didn't realize until he started, so by the time it was ready Draco was good and grumpy. 

"If you don't stop glaring at me everytime I walk by I will chuck the whole thing into the bin," Harry said.

In spite of the magic eight ball's recommended bedtime, Ron struggled and fussed and threw a rollicking tantrum when they tried to put him down. He kicked and cried, and no amount of rocking would convince him to stop. Draco did an admirable job keeping his frustration in check, but he and Harry had to hand Ron off to each other several times when their tempers reached the boiling point. Bean tried to do somersaults to help but in the end it was simply a waiting game. Ten minutes before the lasagna was done he finally fell asleep in his crib. 

Harry and Draco tiptoed to the kitchen and ate in silence, reluctant to wake him after such a hard-won battle. Bean cleared away the dishes and they crept back to the living room to rest for a moment. 

"Tomorrow he needs his own room," Draco said. "There's nowhere else in this bloody house to sit."

"I'm thinking about going to bed," Harry yawned.

"Not a bad idea," Draco rubbed his eyes.

They dragged themselves up the stairs. Draco paused on the first floor and looked back.

“We shouldn’t be too far away, in case he needs something.”

“Ginny is still living in her room so I don’t feel comfortable using it,” Harry said. “I’m up in the twins’ room.”

Draco followed him up to the next floor and looked back again. “I guess this is close enough,” he said. “Whose room is that?”

“That’s Percy’s,” Harry said. “You can use it, but the bed is terrible. It squeaks so loudly that it’s like sleeping on Mandrakes. And it feels like a bag of rusty hammers.”

“How in Salazar’s name did he sleep in there?” Draco frowned disapprovingly.

“I’m not sure he did,” Harry said. “I think George and Fred might have done something to it, and that’s why he moved out.”

He pushed open the door to the twins’ room and sat on the edge of George’s bed to remove his socks. Draco paused in the doorway and looked around critically. Finally he shrugged and sat on the edge of the other bed. Harry’s stomach tensed.

“Uh,” he scratched his nose and cleared his throat. “That’s Fred’s bed.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Draco jumped up and checked behind him for threats.

“Nothing,” Harry cleared his throat again. “Fred is,” he paused. “He’s not,” he couldn’t finish.

“Oh,” Draco’s expression drooped. “I heard about that.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” Harry said apologetically.

“I guess I could go up another floor,” Draco worried his lip with his fingers. “If I don’t hear Ron you’ll come get me, right?”

“Well,” Harry glanced over his shoulder at George’s bed. “If you’re really worried about that, I guess,” his voice trailed off. It was a ridiculous idea. He shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“If you don’t mind,” Draco said softly. “I guess it would work.”

Harry looked up in surprise. Draco was watching him intently. Neither one of them wanted to say it directly. Harry pushed the covers back and slipped into bed, then shimmied over to the edge. The bed was only a single, but it seemed like enough room.

Draco slipped his socks off and climbed into bed next to him. He squirmed and shifted and nestled his head on the edge of the pillow. They were both lying on their backs and staring at the ceiling with their arms pinned at their sides. Not particularly comfortable. Harry wiggled and shifted so one shoulder was raised, and he was just slightly tilted on his side. It was more comfortable for his raised arm, but it meant he was leaning hard on Draco. Draco squirmed and dropped his shoulder so he could tilt at the same angle. His outside arm dangled uselessly between them, not quite perfectly nesting into the space. Harry squirmed again, followed immediately by Draco, until they were both rolled over onto their right sides, Harry’s back nestled into Draco’s chest, their knees curved together. After a moment Draco’s left hand slipped over Harry’s waist and tucked between his arms.

Harry could feel Draco’s breath on the back of his neck. He was awake, certainly, breathing too quickly for sleep. He was as nervous as Harry was. His heart pounded and he worried Draco would feel it under his fingertips. There was something he wanted to do but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He chewed his lip as his fingers twitched, trying to defy him and do something they definitely shouldn’t. His hand crept up against his better judgement and he slipped it over Draco’s hand, threading their fingers together. Draco’s fingers curled with him and held his hand tightly. Harry’s stomach flip-flopped. He closed his eyes and held his breath as he took one more chance and gently stroked his thumb across the back of Draco’s hand. A moment later, Draco’s thumb stroked back.

Harry smiled and exhaled. Any other time he would have stayed awake to see what would happen. But he was exhausted and he knew Ron would be up bright and early, so he let himself fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry awoke slowly, peripherally aware that it was still early and the sun was only just peeking above the horizon. His senses returned one by one, and it dawned on him that he had fallen asleep with Draco Malfoy. As that thought occurred to him,. he realized he had rolled over in the night.

He lay enveloped in Draco’s arms, fully wrapped around him and holding him close. His head lay nestled on Draco’s shoulder, tucked neatly under his chin. His nose was resting lightly on Draco’s collarbone, and that spicy, smoky scent he’d picked up the day before filled his nostrils. His right arm was draped over Draco’s waist, his hand tucked up behind his back. Their legs were tangled together in knots, bare feet creating two concentrated points of skin-on-skin contact.

Harry lamented the gray turtleneck that separated his cheek from Draco’s shoulder. He felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the chest that now served as a pillow. He wanted to draw his knee up and rub his foot down the length of Draco’s leg. He wanted to slip his hand beneath Draco’s shirt and feel the line of his back muscles beneath his fingertips. He did none of those things.

He listened to Draco’s heartbeat, the slow, steady thump and the soft whisper of his breath as his chest rose and fell. Harry nuzzled the soft fabric with his lips, imagining the taste of the skin beneath.

Draco inhaled deeply and let out a tiny sleepy moan. Goosebumps raised along Harry’s arms at the throaty sound. He’d never slept with another man, never woken up in a man’s arms. It was everything he hoped it would be. He didn’t want to read too much into it. Draco was more experienced in dating, and this might not be a big deal to him. He didn’t want to presume.

Draco inhaled deeply again and his head rolled on the pillow. His arms tightened around Harry and he drew one foot up to rub down Harry’s leg. And then he dropped a gentle kiss onto the top of Harry’s head. Harry’s brain exploded. His heart raced as he tightened his embrace and pressed closer to Draco’s body. Draco’s hands kneaded Harry’s back, slowly and comfortingly, more massage than foreplay.

“Dada!”

They both froze simultaneously.

“Dada!”

They both sagged and rolled apart. Draco rubbed his face with his palm and groaned in frustration.

“Dada! Dada! Dada!”

“I take back what I said about wanting a large family,” Draco grunted as he rose to his feet and trudged down the stairs.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed to catch his breath. Had that really happened? Had he just woken up in the arms of Draco Malfoy? He smiled, unable to squash down the flutter in his stomach.

When he arrived downstairs Draco was settling Ron in his highchair and mixing up cereal. He was holding the magic eight ball and directing Bean to make buttered toast for Ron to gnaw on.

“Say Draco,” he said firmly as he tested the temperature of the cereal.

“Daco!” Ron shouted, slapping his hands on the tray.

“Say Harry,” Draco pointed at Harry as he pulled out a chair at the table.

“Aree!”

“Excellent,” Draco looked up at Harry with a silly grin. “Now tell Aree to go have a shower while Bean makes breakfast.” Ron blew raspberries and laughed uproariously.

“At least he’s chipper in the morning,” Harry wiped the spittle from his arm.

He showered quickly and returned to the kitchen, then sent Draco upstairs to get cleaned up. He wiped Ron’s face and hands and took him back into the living room to play. As soon as he set Ron down, he pushed himself to his feet and toddled over to Harry’s knees. Harry gaped at him.

“You walked!” he laughed. “I mean, I knew you would, but there you are!” He scooped Ron up and swung him around, then took the stairs by two and burst into the bathroom.

“Draco, he walked!” Harry shouted over the spray of the water.

Draco yelped and pulled the shower curtain around him. “What are you doing?” he cried.

“Ron walked! Show him, Ron,” Harry set him down and grinned as Ron toddled over to the bathtub.

“Look at you,” Draco said wonderingly. He tightened the shower curtain around himself and his eyes darted around uncomfortably. “Okay, now get out. I’ll see him walk when I’m done.”

“Come on, mate,” Harry scooped Ron up and trundled him back downstairs.

He realized that they would need to think about baby-proofing now. Ron was into everything. He bonked his head and stumbled on any little thing in his path. He was a disaster on two legs.

“Aree, Aree, Aree,” Ron sang as he bumbled about the living room, knocking over picture frames and tossing throw pillows to the floor.

“No, no, no,” Harry followed him, prying his hands off of pointy knick-knacks and antique spell books.

Draco thudded down the stairs in yesterday’s turtleneck and went to the Floo. “I need to pop home for a change of clothes,” he called. “Back in a few.”

“Daco!” Ron called as the Floo whooshed green and Draco stepped through. His face crumpled and his lip bobbled. “Daco!” he called as great big tears spilled down his face.

“Hush, he’s coming right back,” Harry scooped Ron up and patted his back as he cried. “You don’t even like him, remember?” It occurred to him that Ron had truly reverted to his childhood, with none of the memories he had acquired over the years. He didn’t know Harry or Draco, although yesterday he seemed to recognize his parents in the photo on the mantle. Harry walked him over to the picture again and let him hold it.

“Who’s this?” he pointed at Molly.

“Mama!” Ron’s tears disappeared and an ebullient smile spread across his face.

“And who’s that?” Harry pointed at Arthur.

“Dada!”

“And that?”

“Pasee!”

“Percy, that’s right,” Harry pointed again.

“Bill!”

“And those two guys?”

“Jog! Fed!”

“Close enough.” He pointed again.

“Kalee!”

“Charlie, right. And what about her?”

Ron’s brow furrowed. He patted the waving image of Ginny but didn’t name her. Finally he said, “Mama?”

“That’s Ginny,” Harry said. “I guess when you were this age she wasn’t born yet. Or maybe just born, I guess.”

Ron carefully lowered his mouth to the picture and kissed the smiling image of his mother. Harry’s heart squeezed. Poor bugger was growing up without his mum.

The Floo whooshed again and Draco stepped through, this time in a dark green button-down shirt with long sleeves. He was fastening his cuffs as he emerged.

“Daco!” Ron let go of the picture frame and lunged for Draco. Harry had to scramble to keep his hold on him and catch the photo.

“He cried when you left,” Harry said.

“Did you, now?” Draco scooped him up and twirled him around. “Imagine that, the Weasel actually missed me.” He sat on the sofa with Ron in his lap and bounced him on his knee. “Do you want to hear a story about the Weasel? Uncle Draco could tell you a good one.”

“Be nice about it,” Harry said mildly. He went to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Once upon a time there was a Dragon,” Draco said in a sing-song voice. “He was a very lonely Dragon, never had other Dragons to play with. He had lots of jewels and riches, as Dragons always do, but not many playmates.”

Harry’s hands went still. He went to the living room doorway and listened as Draco continued.

“One day the Dragon was sent away for school. He was excited, he knew he would meet other animals there. Maybe some who would want to be his friend,” Draco went on. Ron stared at him with wide eyes, enraptured by his tone. “Sure enough, he met many animals on the train. Some of them were nice, some were not. Most of them wanted to know about his jewels and riches. He learned that some of the animals would be his friend right away if he offered to share his jewels and riches.” He paused for a moment. “But there was one animal who he really wanted to meet. The Owl. Everyone knew about the Owl. He was special, the most special Owl anyone could imagine, and everyone wanted to meet him. The Dragon was no exception. When he heard the Owl was really there, he was so excited. Maybe the Owl would want to be his friend. He looked and looked and finally found him. But when he found him, he saw the Owl already had a friend, the Weasel. The Owl and the Weasel became friends instantly, from the moment they met. And once they became friends, there was no room for anyone else. Certainly no room for the Dragon. The Dragon tried, he introduced himself and offered to shake the Owl’s hand. But the Weasel laughed at him. And the Owl refused to take the Dragon’s hand. So the Dragon and the Owl were never friends, not at all, not since that day. And the Dragon was always a little bit sad about that, and most of the time mad about it. And he never forgave the Weasel for turning the Owl against him. The end.”

“You told it wrong,” Harry said quietly.

“It’s my story,” Draco looked up, his face drawn.

Harry could tell that it had taken a lot for him to say what he had said. He knew Draco’s perspective was skewed, with no accountability for his own part in the escalating hostilities. But he understood now how much that first meeting had hurt him. He sat next to Draco on the sofa and tickled Ron’s chin.

“Do you want to hear my version of the story?” he asked.

“I guess,” Draco looked away.

“Once upon a time there was an Owl,” Harry said. “He was an ordinary Owl but one day he found out that he was supposed to be a special Owl. He tried to tell people he was an ordinary Owl, but no one believed him. Even though he knew he really was an ordinary Owl, he was sent away to school to become the most special Owl he could be. On his way to school he met the Weasel, who didn’t really care whether he was special or not. He treated him like an ordinary Owl. The Weasel didn’t ask the Owl for anything, he was nice and helpful and the kind of friend the Owl needed.” He sat back and chose his next words carefully. “Then along came the Dragon.” Draco sat up stiffly and kept his eyes pointed at the floor. “The Dragon wanted to be the Owl’s friend. But he wanted to be a special Owl’s friend, not an ordinary Owl’s friend. He thought being friends with a special Owl would make him special, too. He didn’t care about the Owl, not really. And when the Owl realized that and decided not to shake his hand, the Dragon decided they should be enemies for life.”

Draco didn’t say anything. Harry leaned forward and took his hand. “The Owl didn’t mean to hurt the Dragon’s feelings. And the Owl never wanted to be enemies. But the Owl wasn’t good at being the bigger person and probably didn’t think much at all about the Dragon’s feelings, not until it was too late to fix things.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “The Owl wants to be friends now, if that means anything. If the Dragon wants to.”

“Enough with the animals, Potter,” Draco’s voice was rough. Ron was watching Draco with long, slow blinks, his whole body sagging into his arms.

“I think naptime is taking over,” Harry lifted Ron from Draco’s hands and rested him on his shoulder. “Looking pretty sleepy there, mate.” He laid Ron down in the crib and yawned. “I could use a nap, too, I think.”

Draco looked up, finally, his expression neutral and his hands still.

“How about you?” Harry asked softly. Draco nodded and followed him up the stairs.

Harry pulled up the quilt and laid on top of it. He scooted over to give Draco room without even checking to make sure he wanted to share. Draco looked down at him for a moment, a small smile flickering across his lips, then he laid down, too. They both shifted around each other until they were back in the position they had woken up in. Harry’s head was nestled into Draco’s shoulder, his arm around Draco’s waist. Draco rested his chin on Harry’s head and curled both arms around him. Their legs tangled and twisted together as close as they could be.

Harry closed his eyes and told himself that he really did want a nap, this time really would be best put towards resting while Ron was still. But his hands disagreed. He stroked his fingers up and down Draco’s back, catching his pinkie on the hem of his shirt and wondering if it would be okay to slide underneath. He so wanted to touch bare skin, to feel it the way he’d never been allowed to feel it before.

Draco’s hands moved slowly, drawing Harry in close and massaging in slow circles. He pressed his nose into Harry’s hair and inhaled deeply. Harry was certain he was picking up the gardenias and honeysuckle of Ginny’s soap. He wondered what he thought of it, not having the same sexual association with the scent that Harry had developed.

Harry slid his hand up to Draco’s chest and clenched his shirt in his fist. He took a deep breath and remembered Draco had bathed with the same floral soap. The erotic center of his brain unfurled as the combination of scent memory and real life intimacy collided.

Draco pressed his lips to the top of Harry’s head and kissed a line down to his forehead. Harry tilted his head back slightly, hoping he would continue the journey. Draco nuzzled his forehead and he could distinctly feel the shape of a smile on his lips. Harry tilted back further, drawing away just enough to look up into Draco’s eyes. He gazed back half-lidded, soft and gray and still. His hand raised slowly and he touched Harry’s ear, then brushed his hair back from his face. Harry brought his hand up to rest on Draco’s shoulder. Draco traced his finger down Harry’s jaw to his chin, then gently, without insistence, tipped Harry’s face up to meet his own.

His lips were feather soft, barely there, only a whisper of a touch. Harry’s heart swelled in his chest until it felt like it would burst. He pressed forward, desperate for more contact, something he could definitely say without debate was a real and authentic kiss. Draco threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair and drew him closer, granting him the full kiss he wanted. Harry’s head whirled with giddy revelation.

Draco held his lips for a long moment, then released him with a tiny, wet smack. Before Harry could protest he pressed in and kissed harder, holding him again for an eternity as their lips moved in unison. Harry’s hand continued its journey from Draco’s shoulder to his head and drew his thumb down Draco’s earlobe. Draco released his lips again and tilted his head to the side. He pressed in again, this time more deeply, parting his lips just slightly and drawing Harry’s lower lip into his mouth. His hands moved sensually, savoring the curve of Harry’s neck and back. Harry fluttered his fingers through the fine threads of Draco’s hair and traced the curve of his shirt collar.

Draco released him once again and withdrew far enough to look Harry in the eye. Harry’s cheeks flushed and he tried to duck his head.

“No you don’t,” Draco murmured and tipped Harry’s chin up again. He caught his mouth up in his own and kissed him again, this time flicking the tip of his tongue across Harry’s lips. An electric shock crawled up Harry’s spine like a Jacob’s ladder. He parted his lips and flicked back, shuddering in delight as their tongues slipped across each other.

Without breaking contact Draco shifted his body, rolling Harry onto his back and laying nearly on top of him. His left leg rested between Harry’s legs, his thigh making delicious contact with his groin. He braced himself on one elbow and stroked his hand down Harry’s chest to his belt. Harry wrapped both hands around Draco’s head and pulled him in deeper, his tongue exploring and yearning for more. He swept his right hand down to the hem of Draco’s shirt and indulged in his need for skin, pushing the shirt up and tracing his fingertips up the warm expanse.

Draco moaned and pushed Harry’s shirt up, slipping his left hand beneath and working his way up Harry’s ribs. He paused on Harry’s nipple and tickled his fingertips across it, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. No one had ever played with his nipples before. He’d had no idea what he was missing out on.

Draco pulled back and smiled. “You like that?” he asked, his lips just barely brushing Harry’s.

“Yes,” Harry breathed, arching his back and pressing into Draco’s hand.

Draco kissed him again and traced a circle around Harry’s nipple, teasing and tempting with near-misses and glancing touches. Harry thought he might explode. His right hand reversed direction and headed down, pushing beneath the waistband of Draco’s trousers, beneath his pants, and kneading a handful of his buttocks. Draco grunted and Harry felt the hard outline of his cock press against his hip. He salivated involuntarily, tracing his fingers up and down the curve of Draco’s arse.

“Harry,” Draco murmured. “I--”

“Daco!”

“Fuck,” Draco dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder.

“Daco! Up! Up!”

“He’s big enough to climb over that crib rail now,” Harry said, stuffing down an agonized whimper.

Draco dove in for a hard kiss, pressing Harry into the lumpy mattress. He reached down and squeezed Harry’s cock through his jeans and rolled to his feet. “To be continued,” he jabbed his finger at Harry before heading downstairs.

“Merlin,” Harry laid back and allowed the whimper to escape. He was painfully hard, and desperate for release. But what could they do with a toddler in the house?

When he went downstairs he found Ron standing at the long window to the side of the front door. He patted the glass and said, “Out?”

“You want to go for a walk?” Harry asked. “We can do that, mate.”

Draco was just putting the kettle on the stove, and clearly had no intention of leaving without a cup of tea.

“Let’s have some lunch first, yeah?” Harry picked Ron up with a groan. “You’re getting big fast, aren’t you.”

“Aree,” Ron patted his cheeks with his hands. “Daco,” he reached with grabby fingers at Draco as Harry seated him in his chair.

“I’m kind of insulted that he seems to prefer you over me,” Harry said.

“Maybe I keep a secret stash of weasel treats in my pocket,” Draco said in a silly voice as he sat down in front of Ron and offered a bowl of fruit nibblets.

“After this do you want to take a walk?” Harry pulled the kettle off of the stove as it began to whistle. He poured two cups and set one down in front of Draco.

“Sure,” Draco popped a banana slice into his mouth. “I need a new wand holster, we could take him to Hogsmeade.”

Harry paused with a biscuit halfway to his mouth. “You want to take him out in public? Both of us?”

“Sure,” Draco shrugged casually. “Are you afraid people will see you with me?”

“No,” Harry scowled. “Of course not. But what if they recognize him?”

“No one is going to look at us and think, Oi, is that Ronald Weasley, hexed to the gills on baby juice?” Draco plucked the biscuit out of Harry’s hand and took a bite.

“What do we say when people see the two of us with a ginger child?” Harry stole the biscuit back and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.

“We’ll say we’re babysitting,” Draco sneered. “It’s not hard to come up with a lie. Honestly, you could do with a dose of Slytherin in you.”

“Well--” Harry broke off with a grin, stopping the rather filthy thought before it could be voiced. 

Draco stared at him as though stunned, then threw his head back and laughed in a way Harry had never seen before. He put his head down on the table and pounded it with his fist.

“My mouth is going to get me into trouble,” Harry said.

Draco looked up with an expectant grin until Harry realized what he had said and groaned. Draco howled with laughter again and waved his hands for mercy.

“No one ever told me you’re funny, Pot-- Harry,” he gasped between gales of laughter.

“Aree!” Ron threw his arms up into the air and laughed, too. He slapped his hands onto the tray and knocked the bowl of fruit over. Harry buried his face in his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

After lunch they cleaned up and rooted around in the box of old baby clothes until they found something that fit Ron nicely. They even found a pair of suitable shoes. Then they secured him into the buggy and passed through the Floo to the town square of Hogsmeade.

They set off towards Gladrags Wizardwear to find a new wand holster for Draco. Ron kicked his feet and patted the tray on the buggy, pointing at birds and trees and shops and people and anything he could put in the direct line of his finger. The air was perfect, a warm June day, a bit hot in direct sun but lovely in the shade. Harry wondered at Draco’s choice of long sleeves and suspected he was probably a bit overheated.

They had to bump and maneuver to get the buggy over the threshold of the clothing shop. Once inside Ron strained and reached for everything at eye level, so that Harry was kept busy distracting him while Draco inspected a few different styles of wrist holsters. A pretty shopgirl helped by unboxing the ones he wished to try on. Harry could tell she was flirting with him and felt a curious flush of pride when Draco was clearly unimpressed.

“If you’ll roll up your sleeve I’ll help you slip it on,” she said breathily. “Which side do you wear it on?”

“Left,” Draco unbuttoned his cuff and reached up inside his sleeve to pull his current holster off. It was worn and the leather was thin in a few places.

“You’re not left-handed,” Harry said. He rolled the buggy back and forth to keep Ron from grabbing at items on low shelves.

“Dueling strategy,” Draco said, holding his hand out to the shopgirl for the new holster. “No one expects a wand in the left hand. Most opponents will focus on the right, looking for tells.”

“If you’ll roll your sleeve up I’ll slide it on,” the shopgirl said again.

“No thanks,” Draco plucked it from her hands and slipped it on without moving his sleeve. He inserted his wand into place, buttoned his cuff and moved his arm around to test it. “Feels a bit insecure,” he said, removing it.

“I can help fit it better,” she reached out to help.

Draco yanked his arm back and regarded her with haughty coldness. “Thank you, but no.”

Harry busied himself with a rack of luminescent socks. He knew what was happening. Draco’s Dark Mark must still be visible. He was hiding it from view by keeping it concealed. The shopgirl wouldn’t know that, and therefore wouldn’t know that she was treading on very thin ice.

Draco tried a different strap and waved his arm around to test it. “This one is fine. No need to wrap it, I’ll wear it out.” His voice was hard.

“Yes sir,” she said meekly. “I’ll wrap up your old one.” She returned to the register and tallied his total, then accepted his money with downcast eyes.

When he was done he strode from the store without another word, and Harry could tell from the straight line of his back that he was annoyed. This was a posture he knew well. He wheeled Ron after him, but hung back and didn’t press him to speak. He paused in front of Honeydukes and decided he wanted an ice cream.

“Draco,” he called gently. “Ice cream?”

Draco stopped and clenched his fists for just a moment. Then he turned and looked back regretfully. His shoulders sagged and he returned to Harry and Ron with a guilty frown. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder and bumped his temple with his forehead.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I think Ron should taste his first ice cream,” Harry said brightly, to show Draco that his apology was unnecessary.

“The first he can remember, anyway,” Draco’s smile silently thanked Harry for understanding.

They pushed their way inside and carefully navigated between the barrels of various sweets. Ron’s eyes goggled and danced at the colors and shapes and movement. They steered the buggy to the back of the shop where the No-Melt ice cream counter was. Harry picked out coconut, Draco chose vanilla. They both added brilliantly sparkling sugar strands sprinkled on top. Harry crouched down and gave Ron a little taste, laughing as his eyes bugged out and he reeled back from the cold.

They pushed the stroller back outside and slowly made their way down the street in search of a place where they could sit and eat their treats. They found a small bench beneath the shade of a tree, squeezing in close to fit onto the short seat. Draco laid his arm along the back of the bench and stroked his thumb down Harry’s arm as they ate their ice cream. Every now and then they offered Ron a taste, who responded with various comical reactions to the cold sweet taste.

“Harry?”

All three looked up as a group. “Arry!” Ron shouted in response as he patted his tray.

“Hi Neville,” Harry smiled bravely over the top of his ice cream. Neville looked back and forth between Harry and Draco, totally nonplussed by the sight.

“Fancy running into you,” Neville smiled and nodded, his eyebrows stitched together in confusion.

“How are things, Longbottom?” Draco asked, just before taking a massive bite of ice cream.

“I’m well, thank you,” Neville said. “Out enjoying the day?”

“Ice cream sounded perfect,” Harry raised his cone.

“Honeydukes has benefitted greatly since we started allowing summer here,” he nodded. “It’s been great for tourism altogether. Winter year-round isn't everyone’s idea of paradise.”

“That’s right, you’re on the village council now, aren’t you?” Harry recalled.

“I am,” he puffed his chest out proudly. “In a year or two I might run for mayor.”

Draco shifted in his seat and curled his hand around Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s heart beat faster. He hadn’t told all of his friends about his preferences yet. He had naively assumed he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew on their little outing.

“Um,” Neville’s eyes flicked to Draco’s hand and darted away. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Neville,” Harry took a breath. “It’s probably obvious but--”

“No, I figured it out,” Neville said. “You don’t have to say it.”

“There was never a good time,” Harry said apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from anyone.”

“It’s no one’s business,” Neville said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “But you know,” he glanced at Draco and away.

“Neville,” Draco said, his voice a little too loud and a little too sharp. “I apologize for the way I treated you in school.” He stared directly at his former schoolmate and waited patiently.

Neville’s mouth dropped open. “You do?”

“I do,” Draco said. “I won’t make excuses for how I acted. Suffice to say I overcame a lot and I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“Okay,” Neville chewed his lip and peered at Draco suspiciously, looking for any sign of a trick.

“Daco!” Ron slapped the tray on the buggy and pointed up into the tree. “Birdy, Daco!”

“Is this your son?” Neville asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

“No,” Draco said pleasantly, taking another bite of ice cream.

“Is he,” Neville took a step back and gawked at Harry. “He’s not yours and Ginny’s is he?” he gasped.

“No,” Harry jumped in surprise. “No, that ended long ago.”

“Then whose child is this?” Neville squatted on his heels and smiled at Ron. Ron laughed and patted his tray again.

“I-keem!” he said, pointing at Harry’s cone. Harry obediently offered a nibble.

“This is Barnaby, second cousin, once removed,” Draco said smoothly. “We’re babysitting.”

“Barnaby,” Neville tickled Ron’s chin. “He’s adorable.” Ron giggled and kicked his feet.

“It was nice running into you,” Harry said. “We should get together soon.”

“Definitely,” Neville nodded. His smile was strained as he nodded at Draco, but Harry supposed it was better than nothing. They exchanged a few more pleasantries and then he was on his way.

“Barnaby?” Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco.

“Seemed plausible,” Draco shrugged. “So was that mortifying?”

“Not at all,” Harry said. “I haven’t told many people, though. So it’s sort of a two-for-one coming out.” He squinted down the road after Neville and thought. "Why did you apologize?"

"Because it seemed like I should," Draco said. "And it seemed like something that would make you happy."

"But did you really mean it? Or was it just for my sake?" Harry asked.

"I did it for your sake," Draco said. "But I also mean it, I guess. If not for your sake I would have thought it and not said it out loud."

"It's good that you said it out loud," Harry said.

Draco gazed at him for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him. Harry’s stomach did flips, ice cream and all. Ron clapped his hands.

“Will you go out with me?” Draco asked when they parted. “A real date, you and me, let’s have supper.”

“Sure,” Harry looked down at Ron. “With him?”

“Of course not, Bean will babysit,” Draco said. He leaned over and kissed Harry’s neck, sending goosebumps down both arms. “I want to take you to supper, and then I want to take you back to my place and shag you senseless,” he said into Harry’s ear.

Harry groaned, and was instantly hard. Draco glanced down and noticed. He grinned smugly and took a big bite of his ice cream.

They headed back to the Burrow and then parted ways to get ready for their evening out. Harry didn't have much of a wardrobe to choose from that would be date worthy. When he had packed for his month at the Burrow it had never occurred to him that he would need to look nice in public. In the end he chose an Oxford shirt and black tie with boring tan trousers. He knew it wasn't quite the right assembly of items but had no idea what was out of place or how to fix it. 

Bean arrived just as he came downstairs and went straight to Ron. He barely looked at Harry in Draco's absence, instead attending to the toddler. Harry scooped Ron up and hugged him. 

"Uncle Harry will be back later," he said, patting Ron's back. "You have fun with Bean and don't give him any tantrums at bedtime, okay?"

"Bean! Bean funny!" Ron clapped his hands. His vocabulary had grown exponentially throughout the afternoon.

"You'll call Draco if there are any problems, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sir, Harry Potter, sir," Bean tugged at his teddy bear tank top and shuffled his feet shyly. 

"We'll be back later," Harry said again and finally, with a twinge of guilt, stepped through the Floo. 

He stepped out into the evening air in the Hogsmeade town square. He wondered where Draco wanted to go. Not Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop, surely.

"Ready?" A pair of arms slipped around Harry's shoulders from behind and pulled him in close. Harry turned and bashfully tugged at his tie. 

"Sorry, this is all I had," he said. 

"I already knew you have no style," Draco dismissed his concern.

"Not like you," Harry said. "I'll bet that suit cost more than a year's tuition."

"I don't know how much tuition cost," Draco said. "I never asked." He gripped Harry's hand and pulled him in close, then winked and Disapparated.

They landed in the lobby of a posh restaurant that looked out over a pastoral landscape. The dining room was filled with finely dressed witches and wizards, wealth apparent in their apparel and bearing. Harry felt distinctly underdressed and out of place. He stepped back and fidgeted with his tie again. 

"We should go somewhere else," he whispered. "I'm not dressed for this."

"You're fine," Draco caught his hand and pulled him back in again. "Just ignore anyone who thinks otherwise."

"Easy for you to say," Harry said. 

"No it's not," Draco said, his eyes sharp. "It's not easy for me to say." He extended his left arm meaningfully. "But here I am anyway."

"Master Malfoy, reservations for two," the maître d' appeared like a shimmering mirage. He bowed and led the way into the dining room. 

Harry kept his chin up, pretending he wasn't quaking under the weight of the eyes of the other diners. It wasn't possible to know if they were staring because of his clothing or because of his name. He could never tell.

They were seated at a table for two near a window, giving them a spectacular view of the sunset over the fields below. The sky poured gold and pink across the tips of barley as it rippled in the breeze. Harry felt the anxious knot unwind in his stomach. Draco slipped their hands together. 

"I assume Ron was fine with Bean watching him tonight?" Draco asked. He stroked his thumb over Harry's knuckles. 

"Seemed like it," Harry's attention was divided between speaking and the thrill of being touched. "He wasn't bothered at all when I left."

"Maybe he really does like me better," Draco curled his lip in a sneer. "Maybe when he grows up he'll be my best mate now."

"Very funny," Harry rolled his eyes. 

Draco's sneer dissolved into a sincere smile. He watched Harry closely. "Has anyone ever held your hand before?"

"Of course," Harry sat up and scowled at the question. "I held hands with Ginny. And Cho."

"You held their hands," Draco said. "Has anyone held yours?"

"Same thing, isn't it?"

"It's not," Draco said. "Has anyone who was interested in you reached out and held your hand? Taken your hand in theirs?"

"Oh," Harry said. "Maybe not."

"Have you ever held hands with a man?"

"No," Harry blushed. 

"Have you done anything with a man?"

"Come on."

"Is that a no?"

"Yes."

"Potter," Draco frowned. "Yes or no."

"No."

"That explains it," Draco nodded. "You're so nervous."

"It's not just that," Harry said. "You're not just any man."

"I am quite a catch, aren't I?" Draco waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

"You know that's not what I mean." Harry withdrew his hands as the waiter brought their drinks and a platter of rolls. 

"I know," Draco nodded. He tore a piece of bread in half and popped a chunk into his mouth. "Maybe it's not enough, a few days raising a baby. Maybe there's just too much history."

"Do you really think so?" Harry asked. His heart ached at the thought.

"I hope not," Draco took his hand again. "You know I've liked you for a while, right?"

"You have?" Harry was stunned. "Since when?"

"I don't know. A while," It was Draco's turn to blush.

"Then why were you so awful to me?" Harry asked. 

"Because I hated you." Draco said. 

Harry took a bite of bread and considered his words. "At what point did you start liking me more than you hated me?"

Draco cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He brushed his long forelock back from his eyes and gazed out of the window.

"The fire?" Harry guessed. That was the moment he had gotten his first inkling of feelings. He remembered Draco's arms curled around him so tightly. He remembered setting him down and worrying that he had been hurt. He remembered the look in his eyes. 

"Before that," Draco said softly, still staring out of the window.

"Well," Harry thought hard. "It had to be after you hexed Katie Bell, that was the last time you tried to kill me." He swallowed hard, thinking about the moment he had thought he had murdered Draco. At once a bolt of terror and a flood of guilt, grappling with the knowledge that he had gone too far and had crossed a line that should never be crossed. 

"No," Draco nodded at the twilight sky outside. "That was it."

Harry stared at him. How could that be? He had literally passed within reach of the shadow of death, at the hands of Harry himself. How could that have been the moment?

Draco looked up and regarded him seriously. He seemed to know what Harry was thinking. "That was the moment," he said again.

Harry reached out slowly and took Draco's hand in his. He didn't think he could fully understand it, not really, but maybe he could grasp a bit of it.

"So what you're saying is," he said soberly, "if I ever feel like I'm losing your attention, I should try to kill you to win you back again."

Draco snorted and covered his mouth to muffle the sound. "Potter," he shook his head.


	8. Chapter 8

Supper was exquisite, and Draco was on his best behavior all night. He was polite and deferential, offering Harry first serving of everything, asking him how he enjoyed each course. Harry had never seen such manners in him.

Afterwards the waiter brought them a pair of special after dinner mints that scoured their breath and left them tasting fresh and sweet. Harry appreciated the gesture but was also mortified by the presumption.

When they were done Draco led Harry back to the foyer and hesitated. Harry looked around and realized there were no doors.

"Pop in, pop out only," Draco said. "Which leaves only one question. Where do you want to pop out to?"

"Didn't you already say what you wanted to do after supper?" Harry asked. 

"I told you I wouldn't try to side-along you into my bed," Draco said. "You know how to get there now. It's up to you. Take me wherever you want to go."

Harry thought for a moment. "No."

"What?" Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"You already told me what you wanted to do," Harry said. "I came along knowing that. You want to take me home? Then do it."

"Potter," Draco frowned. "I'm trying to--"

"I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to be a gentleman," Harry said. "I don't need a gentleman. I've known you for eight years, for Merlin sake. Don't try to be someone else tonight."

"You'd rather I told you what to do?" Draco snapped. "Don't be daft."

Harry smiled. "That's it. I know you, Draco. I'm here because of who you are, not because I'm hoping you'll change. We're going to argue and get mad at each other, yes maybe even on a date. But don't be anyone other than yourself."

Draco eyed him coolly. "And what if being myself means I would have rather taken you home and shagged you senseless hours ago and bypassed this silly restaurant?"

Harry stepped up close to him and grasped his elbow. "Then take me home." An evil grin spread across Draco's face and they Disapparated without another word.

They landed in the middle of Draco's bedroom and he was instantly on Harry, pressing their mouths together and unknotting his tie. Harry pushed at Draco's jacket and fumbled with the button closure, hands made clumsy with desire. Draco batted his fingers away and removed it himself, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. He yanked his tie over his head and unbuttoned Harry's shirt. Harry unbuttoned Draco's in return and pushed it over his shoulders.

Draco broke off and stepped back. "Wait," he said, looking down at his arm.

"I already know about your Dark Mark," Harry pulled him back in and pushed the shirt off completely. "You don't need to hide it from me."

Draco hesitated for only a moment, then returned the favor and tossed Harry's shirt away, followed by his glasses. He turned him by the hips and pushed him backwards to the bed, unbuckling his belt as fast as he could.

They collapsed onto the oversized mattress. Harry reveled in the weight of the man on top of him. He stroked his fingers up his strong back and lapped at his mouth with his tongue. Draco snarled and dove in, catching Harry's lower lip in his teeth as he pushed his trousers down and seized his cock. Harry gasped as the first intimate touch spread out like a shock wave through his arms and legs. Draco removed his own trousers and suddenly they were both naked.

Draco slowed his hands and stroked Harry with long, languid pulls. He drew back and watched Harry's face as he drove him towards ecstasy, his triumphant sneer so similar to his derisive sneer that Harry almost mistook it for something unfriendly. But he was stroking Harry's cock and leaning in for a kiss, and that was definitely friendly.

"You like that, huh?" Draco growled. Harry nodded helplessly. "Touch me," he ordered. 

Harry obeyed, wrapping his hand around Draco's cock and groaning with pleasure. He'd wanted to feel the heat of another man beneath his fingers for so long. Draco's sneer melted into a vacant stare. Harry pulled and grinned as Draco’s eyelids fluttered. He drew Draco’s face down to his and kissed his slack mouth, extraordinarily smug that he had elicited such a reaction.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Draco whispered against Harry’s lips. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

Harry pressed harder, kissing him insistently and pulling faster. The feeling of control was amazing. Draco bloody Malfoy, he thought, I’ve got you. Then Draco rediscovered his own hand and stroked Harry again, tipping the balance of control back to himself. Heat filled Harry’s head and he found himself unable to locate his fingers properly.

“Top or bottom?” Draco murmured.

“Huh?” Harry grunted.

“Do you like top or bottom?”

“I don’t know,” Harry slurred. Draco paused, returning Harry’s brain to the inside of his head.

“When you think about this, how do you picture yourself?” Draco reached down and pulled both of their cocks together, stroking slowly and sensuously.

“Merlin, I don’t know,” Harry moaned. “I’ve never thought that specifically.”

“I can go either way,” Draco said. “But if you let me show you, you can decide what feels good.”

Harry nodded breathlessly. Draco kissed him, pushing his tongue across Harry’s as he slipped his hand between his legs. Harry inhaled sharply as Draco traced his finger once around his entrance, and his heart pounded nervously. Draco drew back and watched him closely. Harry nodded. The sensation was tantalizing and he couldn’t deny the urge to press down against his touch.

Draco whispered an incantation and Harry felt a strange, cool, tingling sensation where he’d never felt such a thing before. He yelped in surprise and clutched Draco’s arms. Draco kissed him reassuringly and then whispered another charm. A moment later a slick, warm finger was pressing inside.

“Fucking hell, Malfoy,” Harry groaned, his throat rasping over the expletive. He wanted to crawl away, to escape the intense feeling of being penetrated, but he also wanted to push down, to drive the finger deeper, to rut against it and feel it inside. Draco slipped a second finger in and scissored slowly, curling and stroking a wildly sensitive spot that made Harry want to both leap away and cry out for more. He clutched the bed sheets and whimpered.

“Too much?” Draco cupped his face with his other hand. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“No,” Harry gasped, his eyes fluttering open. “Don’t stop.”

“I think you like it,” Draco purred. He kissed Harry and pressed deeper, scissoring and curling with more speed. Harry gradually relaxed enough that he didn’t feel like jumping away. Then Draco inserted a third finger.

“Oh,” Harry exhaled. He reached down and grasped Draco’s cock in one hand and his own in the other.

“Not yet,” Draco shuddered, and pushed both of Harry’s hands away. “I don’t want to come yet.”

He worked his hand, kissing Harry and tweaking his nipples and nibbling his earlobe, and finally he withdrew. Harry moaned in disappointment, reflexively curling his hips in search of release. Draco whispered his charm again and positioned his cock, then pressed inside.

“Fuck,” Harry hissed as the overwhelming fullness surprised him with its intensity. Draco ran his hand through Harry’s hair and shushed him gently.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll go slow.”

He slipped forward and back in small movements, just to accustom Harry to the sensation. Harry’s hands were useless, gripping Draco’s arms, then his hair, then the pillow, then his own hair. He didn’t know what to do with himself, whether he welcomed or wanted to escape the invasion. He whimpered again as Draco pushed and relaxed, pushed and relaxed.

“Is this okay?” Draco asked. “I can stop,” his voice shuddered involuntarily.

“Don’t stop,” Harry’s eyes flew open. “More.”

Draco thrust faster now, withdrawing a bit more each time and then pressing home. He reached between them and stroked Harry’s cock as he pushed, but eventually needed both hands to brace on either side so he could push faster. Harry stroked himself and swept Draco’s mouth down to his, his body a kaleidoscope of erotic sensations.

“I want you to come first,” Draco grunted, his face ruddy and damp from exertion. His long blond forelock dangled above Harry’s face and swung with every push. Harry could feel the climax rising, it boiled in his groin and spread through his limbs. Then suddenly it rocketed through him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

Harry came hard, pressing down against Draco and unloading over his hand and abdomen. Draco threw his head back and cried out as the crescendo wracked his body, coming in a long wave inside of Harry. When he finally released he collapsed on top of Harry, trapping the mess between them.

They lay draped together, heaving for breath and stroking lazy circles on each other with their fingertips. Finally Draco withdrew and rolled to the side, then quickly cast a charm to clear the sticky, cooling remnants away. Harry tossed his arms around Draco’s shoulders and drew him in, nestling his head under his chin. He kissed the top of Draco’s head and hummed in satisfaction. Yes, he definitely wanted to try that again soon.

They laid together quietly for a while, occasionally kissing and touching and smiling, but not talking. Harry reached down and drew Draco’s left arm up close to his face so he could see his Dark Mark without his glasses. The black lines had faded, leaving something that looked more like a scar. He traced it with his fingers, noting the slightly raised texture.

“Do you know what the worst moment of my life was?” Draco murmured into Harry’s chest.

“When you were marked?” Harry guessed.

“That was the second worst,” Draco said. “The worst was after it was done, the first time the Dark Lord summoned his followers, the marked ones. I felt it in my body, beneath my skin, something I couldn’t control. It was a part of him inside of me and there was nothing I could do to get it out. That was the worst moment of my life.”

“I know,” Harry said. Draco raised his head and looked at him. Harry pushed his hair back and touched his scar. Draco’s eyes lingered over it for a moment and then pressed his lips together and nodded.

“I guess you do,” he said.

“Should we be getting back?” Harry asked. “It’s late. I want to be there when Ron wakes up.”

Draco rolled to his feet and they dressed slowly, then Harry folded himself into Draco’s arms and kissed him as they Disapparated back to the Burrow. Bean was cleaning the kitchen when they arrived, and Ron was asleep in his crib.

“He’s getting so big,” Draco whispered as he checked on the boy.

“He’s aging a year every day and a half,” Harry said. “By this time next week he’ll be talking back and giving us attitude.”

“What will we tell him?” Draco asked.

“That his mum and dad will be back soon and his uncles are taking care of him,” Harry said. “That should work until he’s eleven. After that he’ll remember us from school and he’ll know something is wrong.”

“Hm,” Draco frowned. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry said. “That’s days from now.”


	9. Chapter 9

“You’re not my real dad!”

“Ronald Weasley, you do not talk to your Uncle Harry that way,” Draco glowered at the angry ten-year-old.

"Well he isn't," Ron folded his arms across his chest and glowered back.

"Neither am I," Draco said. 

"But you're nice to me," Ron griped. "He keeps telling me what to do."

"He's supposed to tell you what to do, he's in charge," Draco said. 

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was so tired. Fifteen days of babysitting a rapidly aging child had taken its toll on him. He just wanted to go upstairs and sleep for a week.

"Ron," he said, struggling to keep his tone even. "All I said was that I thought you should wash the dishes as punishment for talking back. And then you talked back again, which means we have to punish you again."

"You don't get to punish me," Ron protested. "Tell my parents when they get home and they'll punish me."

"That's not how it works around here, young man," Harry snapped. 

"Don't talk to me like you're my dad!" Ron shouted. He balled his fists at his sides and clenched his teeth. His red hair stuck up in an unruly mess and his freckles stood out in relief against his flushed, angry face. "I hate you! I hate both of you!" He turned and ran up five flights of stairs. 

"For Merlin's sake," Harry laid his head down on his arms.

Draco sat next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. "He didn't mean it."

"Listen to you," Harry raised his head and straightened his glasses. "You're more bothered by it than I am." He brushed Draco's forelock back from his eyes. "He needs to cool down. Lets go lie down for a bit."

They went up to the third floor, where Bill and Fleur's double mattress awaited. They had moved to the more suitable space after Ron turned four and it was clear he needed to transition to his own room. Harry nestled into Draco's shoulder and let himself be enveloped. He traced one finger around the stitching on Draco's breast pocket and moped. 

"Remember when he was five and he came downstairs and crawled into bed with us?" Draco murmured. 

"Of course I remember that, it was a week ago," Harry said. 

"I know," Draco said. "I was just thinking about how fast it's going."

"Your own kids won't go this fast," Harry reminded him. 

"Our kids."

Harry lifted his head. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

"Mark my words, Potter," Draco stared haughtily down his nose.

Harry chuckled and laid back down. They'd only managed two more outings since their first, and he despaired over the thought that they might have to close out the month before another opportunity came along. 

"He's going to turn eleven tomorrow," Draco said. 

"Yeah."

"He's going to remember us."

"Yeah."

"Well it's all fine and good for you to be so bloody casual about it," Draco sounded annoyed. "He's going to remember that he loves you and hates me."

"You don't know that," Harry said. "He'll also remember how much he's loved you these past two weeks. That has to count for something."

"Yes but from this point forward he's only going to remember more and hate me more," Draco said. "It's only a matter of days before he's back to calling me ferret face and trying to turn you against me."

"He never tried to turn me against you."

"You know what I mean. He'll try to remind you of everything you should hate about me." Draco's voice was steady but Harry could feel the tension in his arms. 

"I'm not going to get mad at you again for taking the Slytherin Seeker position," Harry said lightly, trying to show him how silly his fears were. "Ron is going to be mad about childish things because he's a child. I'm an adult. I haven't forgotten the past, I just see it differently with a more mature perspective."

"Bollocks," Draco snorted. "More mature. Not bloody likely."

"He's been up there for a while," Harry said. "Should we go talk to him?"

"I don't know, Harry, I'm improvising as much as you are."

"I think we should go talk to him."

They went up two more flights of stairs and tapped on Ron's door. 

"Come in," he said grumpily. 

"Can we talk to you?" Harry asked as they entered. 

"I guess," Ron was lying on his bed and tossing a battered Quaffle at the ceiling. 

"What's bothering you?" Draco sat down on the edge of the bed as Harry pulled up the desk chair. 

"I don't know," Ron shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the ball. "I miss Mum and Dad. It feels like I haven't seen them in ages."

"They'll be home soon," Harry felt a twinge of guilt. His memories of being ten were returning, slotting today into the mix. But thanks to the hex his perception of time was probably getting muddled. 

"Why does it feel like I've seen you more than them?" Ron asked. 

"Because we're the ones minding you while they're gone," Harry said. 

Ron didn't say anything. He tossed the Quaffle at the ceiling and caught it. 

"Did you know your Uncle Harry is a brilliant Seeker?" Draco asked, swiping his hand as though he would capture the ball. Ron seized it and rolled over on top of it with a laugh. 

"What about you, Uncle Draco? Do you play Quidditch?" Ron's eyes sparkled eagerly. 

"Not in a long time," Draco shook his head. "And I was never as good as Uncle Harry anyway."

Harry raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Draco. It was a monumental admission, as far as he was concerned. Childhood rivalry, war, near-death battles, those things could be forgiven. But Quidditch was serious. 

Ron squirmed onto his back and tossed the Quaffle at the ceiling again. Finally he eyed Harry curiously. 

"You're really a Seeker?"

"I am," Harry nodded. "Although I haven't played in months."

"Can you teach me to be a Seeker?" Ron sat up, breathless with possibility. 

"I can help you improve your flying," Harry said. "Being a Seeker is about speed and control. But actually becoming Seeker is something you'll have to work towards yourself." He didn't see any point in telling his best mate that he had never been cut out for the position. 

Ron looked down at the ball and picked at the stitching. When he looked up his eyes were narrow and wary. 

"Are you and Uncle Draco boyfriends?" he asked. 

Draco and Harry exchanged another look. They hadn't decided whether they would need to explain things or whether Ron would just naturally accept it. 

"Yes," Harry said. 

"Yuck." Ron wrinkled his nose. 

"Yuck?" Draco asked. "What's yuck about it?"

"Percy says it's unnatural."

"So is virtually every spell you're going to learn at Hogwarts," Draco said. "I suppose you won't be going to school, then."

“Come on," Ron rolled his eyes. "But it's not right, is it?"

"Why not?"

"You can't make babies!"

"Can too!" Draco laughed. "If two wizards want to have a baby they certainly can."

"But it's not natural," Ron sounded exasperated. "You can't do it like the muggles do it."

"We'll if you're using muggles as a measuring stick then you'd better start changing the way you do lots of things." Draco said. 

"I guess your parents will have to give away your broom," Harry teased. 

"No!" Ron shouted, pounding his fists on the mattress. 

"Then maybe you should reconsider whether you think Percy knows what he's talking about," Draco said. "Or maybe you don't want to be friends with me and Uncle Harry any more. Your mum and dad will have to find new babysitters."

"No," Ron said again and lunged at Draco. He threw his arms around his waist and buried his face in his chest. "I still want to be friends," he said, his voice muffled. 

Draco blinked hard and ran his hand over Ron's unkempt ginger hair. Harry knew what he was thinking. Ron was rapidly approaching the moment when he would remember meeting Draco, which meant this might be the last hug they ever shared.

"I guess it's okay," Ron sat up and peered around Draco at Harry. "Maybe Percy doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Damn straight," Draco smiled bravely. "Now go downstairs and do the dishes like Uncle Harry said."

"Fine, I'll go," Ron dragged himself off of the bed with a showy display of exhaustion. He slumped down the stairs, groaning dramatically the whole way.

"It will be okay," Harry squeezed Draco's shoulder.

"No it won't," Draco stood abruptly and went downstairs.

Ron's memory returned the next morning after breakfast. One moment he was playing with Bean and the next he was staring in stunned revelation at Harry. His brow furrowed and he looked around as though confused.

"Harry?" he whispered. "Is that really you?"

Harry sat down hard on the sofa, the wind knocked out of him. Thinking about this moment, knowing it was coming hadn't prepared him at all.

"Yeah, mate, it's really me," he said. 

"You changed," Ron sat next to him and touched his glasses. "You got tall and old."

"That's not exactly right," Harry said with an apologetic smile. He tried not to bristle at the word old. Nineteen was not old, but to an eleven year old it probably seemed like a huge age gap. 

"How are you--" Ron shook his head and frowned. "How are you my Uncle Harry and my school friend Harry?"

"It's hard to explain," Harry said.

"It's happening, isn't it?" Draco said softly from the kitchen doorway. Ron jumped up and pointed. 

"Look out! It's Draco Mal--" Ron's brow furrowed again. He whirled around to glare at Harry. "Why is Draco Malfoy my Uncle Draco?" he shouted angrily. 

"Listen," Harry tried to get him sit down. 

"Why are you both grown-ups?" Ron demanded. "Where are my mum and dad?"

"Ron, listen," Harry tried to capture his wrist. "Something happened to you. It's hard to explain."

"What happened to me?" Ron's voice cracked. "Uncle Dra-- Har--" His eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out. 

Harry dove to catch him and lifted him onto the couch. He propped his feet up and Accioed a cool flannel for his forehead. Draco stood uselessly in the kitchen doorway, his face ravaged with grief. 

"Maybe I should just go," he said. "It will be harder for him with me here."

"Get over here and hold his sodding hand," Harry snapped. "Like it or not, you're part of his memories now, and he needs his Uncle Draco to help him through this."

Draco didn’t argue. He knelt on the floor beside the sofa and held Ron’s hand in his own. His gray eyes were restless, darting about as he contemplated what the flood of returning memories would do to the boy.

Gradually Ron blinked and opened his eyes. At first he looked up at Draco with questioning confusion, seeking comfort from the man he’d grown close to. Then his eyes darkened and he yanked his hand away with a glare.

“Ron,” Harry sat near his feet. “You’ve been hexed.”

“Have I time traveled?” Ron asked.

“No,” Harry took a deep breath. “You’re really nineteen years old. We all are,” he waved to indicate himself and Draco. “You were hexed several days ago and turned into a baby. You’re growing up quickly now, and at the end of the month you’ll be nineteen again and the hex will be gone.”

“I’m not nineteen,” Ron said. “I’m eleven.”

“You’re eleven right now,” Harry said. “A week ago you were six.”

“So you and Draco flipping Malfoy have been taking care of me?” Ron asked incredulously. “Who hexed me?”

“I did,” Draco’s voice was low and calm. “It was an accident. I was trying to give you stomach wind but I threw the wrong hex. It’s my fault.”

“Why did you hex me?” Ron struggled to sit up.

“It was supposed to be stomach wind,” Draco repeated. “No worse than when you cast a Slug-Vomiting charm at me in second year.”

“I did what?”

“Oh right, that hasn’t happened yet. You’ll probably remember tomorrow when you turn twelve,” Draco said.

“This is so confusing,” Ron rubbed his eyes with his hands. He froze and looked up. “Wait, so that means Draco Malfoy is your boyfriend?” he goggled at Harry. “And that means you’re gay!”

“One sort of implies the other,” Draco said dryly.

“Disgusting,” Ron made a gagging face.

“I thought you decided yesterday that it wasn’t disgusting,” Draco said.

“I don’t mean the gay thing. I mean it's disgusting that Harry chose you.”

Draco turned his head away and scowled at the floor. Harry felt his blood pressure rise.

“You apologize for that,” he said. “Have you forgotten everything he’s done for you over the past two weeks?

“No,” Ron looked guilty. “It’s just confusing is all. He’s a prat, a bloody evil prat. And everybody knows it! How does he go from that to...” he trailed off.

“To your Uncle Draco,” Harry finished. “Who cradled you as a baby and fed you and changed your nappy--”

“Nappy!” Ron flopped back and groaned. “Draco Malfoy changed my nappy?”

“If it helps you feel any better, you slashed all over me and my favorite jacket,” Draco said.

Ron laughed. “That does make me feel better.”

“It’s hard to believe now because all of those memories are so fresh,” Harry said. “But things changed. He’s not the same boy you remember now. Trust me, he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t different.”

"So at some point I'm going to remember him turning from a horrid bastard into a friend?" Ron asked, frowning at the thought. 

"Well," Harry cleared his throat. "No."

"You're going to hate me right up to the hex," Draco said. "But maybe the memories you've created with me since then will help show you that I'm not the same person you grew up hating."

"You've become a different person in the last two weeks?"

"I became a different person a while ago," Draco said. "But you had no reason to know that or think differently of me."

Ron shook his head. "It's still so confusing. I feel close to you, but then I remember who you really are and I hate you." He moaned and rubbed his eyes again. "Why is this happening? I hate this! I hate you! Why couldn't you just go away instead of trying to be my friend?" He jumped up from the sofa and ran to the back door. He flung himself outside and let it slam behind him. 

"Bean, stay with him," Draco said. The house elf popped out to follow Ron.

Draco looked up at Harry and held his eyes for a moment. Then his face crumpled and he sagged. He choked out a sob and stopped himself, pressing his hand to his mouth to hold it in. 

"Come here," Harry knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around him. "I know it's hard. But don't forget that he's not really your child. Your own children won't hate you like that."

He hit the nail on the head. That was exactly what was hurting Draco. He leaned into Harry's embrace and wept painfully, struggling to pull himself together even as he fell apart. Harry held him close and rubbed his back and waited patiently for the storm to pass. 

"Sorry," Draco finally gasped. He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. He took a shuddering breath and forced the emotion down. "I hated my father," he said flatly. "I loved him, but I hated him. I don't want my kids to feel that way about me."

"Ron is going to be Ron," Harry said. "When he's back to normal he may still dislike you. But that's okay. Someday you'll start your own family and your kids won't have to know you as a teenager. They'll only know you as you are now."

Draco nodded. He hugged Harry tightly. "We."

"We what?" Harry asked. 

"I don't like the way you keep saying you," Draco said in his ear. "Someday we'll start our own family."

Harry chuckled and squeezed him tightly in return. "Quite right," he murmured. "We."

Ron was sullen for the rest of the day and hardly spoke to either Harry or Draco. He moped around the house and spent time in his room, sometimes talking to Bean when he wanted something. At bedtime Harry went up by himself to check on him.

"Brushed your teeth?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ron sat on his bed, inspecting his wand. "It's hard to believe this is really happening. But then I know I have a broken wand, and this one is mended. So I know it must be happening."

"You've only got a few more days of this confusion," Harry sat on the foot of the bed. 

"Isn't it mad?" Ron peered up at him. "You're my best mate. But you're acting like my dad."

"It is mad," Harry laughed. "It was even more mad when you were an infant and you spat up on me."

"Merlin," Ron blushed with embarrassment.

"I had to wipe your bum," Harry added. 

"No!" Ron threw his head back and moaned. 

"Uncle Draco wiped your bum, too," Harry added. 

"I don't want to talk about him," Ron said flatly. "And you can drop the uncle thing. He's not my uncle."

"You liked him better than you liked me," Harry said. "You called him Daco and you cried when he left the room. You practically jumped out of my arms to go to him."

"I don't care," Ron said. "I was a stupid baby."

Harry sighed. There was no way to convince him, and it wouldn't be fair to expect him to be convinced.

"What's going to happen?" Ron asked. 

"You're going to turn nineteen on the thirtieth day of the hex and everything will go back to normal."

"No I mean the future," Ron shook his head. "My future. Your past. When I'm thirteen and fourteen and fifteen."

"I'm not going to tell you that," Harry smirked. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Does anything bad happen?" he asked. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "At least tell me we beat You Know Who."

"We did," Harry nodded. "You were a big part of that." He thought regretfully about Fred but decided he would have to face Ron later when that memory came back. He wasn’t going to burden an eleven-year-old with the news of his brother’s passing.

"And Hermione? Is she okay?" Ron asked. 

"She's studying in China right now." Harry said.

"Oh," Ron sagged a bit. "So she left? Can I tell you a secret? I think she's cute."

Harry chuckled and patted his knee. "She thinks you're cute, too."

"Really?" His voice cracked and he sat up straight.

"She's only in China for the summer, and then she's coming home. You'll find out the rest on your own," Harry pulled his covers up and switched off the light. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Ron laid back. "Hey Harry?"

"What?"

"Can you send Draco up to say goodnight?"

"Sure."


	10. Chapter 10

“You utter prat,” Ron glared at Draco.over breakfast. “You tried to have Hagrid fired, when you knew you were the one who upset Buckbeak.”

Draco sighed and nodded as he sipped his tea. Random outbursts of accusations were becoming the norm, now that Ron’s school memories were returning with great speed.

“I was angry that Harry had showed off again,” Draco said. “At least, that’s how I saw it at the time. When the hippogriff didn’t let me do the same I got angry and went to my father. That’s how I handled everything in those days.” He took a bite from his toast and raised his eyebrow. “I was on the receiving end of my father’s wrath much of the time. It made me feel better to put someone else in his way.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Ron glowered at him with teenage rage.

“Of course it isn’t,” Draco said. He stood and dumped his breakfast in the sink, then departed for the living room. “Pace yourself, there’s worse to come.” Ron harrumphed and stormed up the stairs.

It was the twentieth day of the hex and Harry wondered how they would make it another ten days. Ron was butting heads with Draco at every turn, looking for explanations and apologies for the outrages of youth in an attempt to reconcile the man he knew with the boy he remembered. Harry could tell it was wearing on both of them. He knew it might be best to let Draco leave and finish out the month on his own, but he was determined to continue to show Ron that Draco had changed, so when he finally turned nineteen he wouldn’t have to start from scratch.

“Ron!”

Harry looked up from his newspaper. Draco looked up from his book with a furrowed brow.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, are you there?”

“Molly!” Harry squeaked. He dove to the floor and dragged Draco down with him by his shirt collar. They laid on the rug and stared at each other in wide-eyed panic.

“Ron! He’s not there. I’ll call again later.”

“Fire call,” Draco said, picking himself up off of the floor with an air of dignity.

“She’s going to call back,” Harry said. “What are we going to do?”

“Do you think she would notice that Ron is thirteen?” Draco asked. Harry gave him a withering look. “Well don’t look at me like that, your big idea was to lie on the floor until she went away.”

“She’s going to notice that her son is four years younger than when she left, Draco!” Harry shouted.

“Okay fine, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Draco thought hard. “Do you know where they’re staying? You could call her back.”

“And what do I say when she asks to speak to Ron?”

“Say he’s in the shower.”

“What kind of sense does that make, to call her back and tell her Ron can’t speak? Why wouldn’t we call back after he got out of the shower?” Harry asked.

“Well if you’re so bloody brilliant, you think of something!” Draco tossed his hands up in frustration.

“Polyjuice!” Harry snapped his fingers.

“There’s never been a good plan that started with Polyjuice,” Draco said.

“I have a stash,” Harry ignored him. “I know the Weasleys well enough, I can stand in for Ron.”

“If you say so,” Draco sighed. “I’ll go tell Bean to keep Ron occupied outside. Maybe he’ll want to go for a spin on his broom.”

While Draco was clearing the house Harry dug through his bag for his small flask of Polyjuice. He brought the bottle downstairs and decanted a small measure into a cup. He checked around for something with a hair in it and found the soft bristle brush they had used after Ron's first bath. He fished out a short ginger hair and dropped it into the cup.

“Bottoms up,” he muttered, bracing himself for the horrid flavor. He drank quickly and immediately felt the roiling change spreading through his gut.

But something was wrong. The room was getting bigger. He gawked at the furniture as it swelled up around him, larger and larger until it towered over him. His clothes billowed around him, and far too late for him to do anything about it he realized he had used one of Ron’s baby hairs. He kicked his legs and waved his arms and cried in frustration.

The back door opened and closed and then a very large, very amused Draco Malfoy was standing over him.

“You’ve got to be joking, Potter,” he smirked. He leaned down and scooped Harry up in his arms. “You Gryffindors have always been too quick to action, too slow to think. Let’s get a nappy on you, shall we?”

Harry was terribly embarrassed. His underdeveloped tongue and throat were unable to speak, so all he could do was cry. Draco laid him in the crib with a delighted grin and quickly wrapped a nappy around him, then swaddled him in a blanket. Harry watched helplessly as he worked, too small and weak to do anything but allow it.

“Who’s my sweet baby boy,” Draco cooed in a mocking voice. He picked Harry up and rocked him, deriving far too much enjoyment from Harry’s predicament. He carried him to the sofa and sat. “Would you like a bottle?” he laughed.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and cried, wishing he could speak up and say no. He wondered how much time had passed. His emergency stash was a weak brew, only intended to change the user’s appearance for twenty minutes or so, but he had no idea how long it had been so far.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt the roiling change begin. His innards bubbled and pushed and his limbs lengthened and his body grew, bursting free from the swaddle as he reverted to his former size. The diaper, charmed to be one-size-fits-all, grew with him and stayed resolutely sealed around his bottom. Draco smiled at him, still cradling him in his arms. Harry glared back.

“Who’s my sweet baby boy?” Draco cooed again, his grin reaching new heights of mockery.

“Put me down, Malfoy,” Harry growled.

“My stars, he can talk!” Draco gasped in delight. “They grow so fast.”

“Haha, very funny,” Harry climbed out of his lap and searched through his discarded clothes for his wand. He released the diaper and let it fall to the floor. He braced his hands on his hips and frowned at Draco in all of his naked glory. Draco reached out to touch him but Harry stepped out of the way.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Draco gave him puppy dog eyes. “I’m sorry. Would you have wanted me to leave you on the floor?”

“No,” Harry quickly dressed himself and slipped his glasses back over his face. “But the diaper and the swaddle were a bit much.” Draco laughed uproariously. “But now what are we supposed to do?” Harry asked. “Molly is going to call back and she’ll expect to speak to Ron.”

“Your silly plan will still work, Harry,” Draco struggled to catch his breath. “You just need an adult hair. Surely Weasley has a brush or something that he hasn’t used since he changed.”

“I’ll go look.” Harry went up to Ron’s room and searched through his drawers. He found a travel bag that he recognized from school and knew it should contain personal items that he brought home from Hogwarts just a few weeks ago. He unrolled the pack and found a hairbrush.

“Are you sure that’s one of his?” Draco asked as Harry returned to the living room. “Wouldn’t want you turning into his sister next.”

Harry shuddered at the thought. “No, this is definitely from his brush from school.”

“Okay then,” Draco reached out and plucked a hair from Harry’s head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Harry winced.

“They left the house to both of you while they’re gone,” Draco said. “They’re going to expect to see both of you.”

“So I’m going to become Ron and you’re going to become me,” Harry said in disbelief.

“Correct,” Draco poured out two measures of Polyjuice from the flask and offered one to Harry. “You know where to call, right?”

“Yes,” Harry dropped the hair in and took a deep breath. He and Draco glanced up at each other, then both drank at once.

“Bloody horrible,” Draco grimaced. Moaning in agony he doubled over as black hairs sprouted all over his head.

Harry watched as his hands paled and freckles popped up all over his skin. He felt himself getting taller, his shoulders getting broader. His glasses were too strong and blurred his vision so he cast them aside. A hand swept in and scooped them up. He turned and met his own green eyes, not for the first time in his life.

“Well this is just disturbing,” Draco held out his arms and inspected himself. He went to the mirror in the hall and studied his face. “You are a handsome devil, Potter. Not as handsome as me, but a close second.”

Harry stepped up to the mirror and felt the strangest disorientation as he and his best mate stared back from reversed eyes. His heart squeezed as he realized how much he had missed Ron, present day Ron, over the past three weeks.

“Come on, you silly tosser,” he dragged Draco by his elbow to the kitchen. He threw a pinch of powder into the Floo, announced Charlie’s house, and stuck his head into the flames.

He didn’t like fire calling, he always found it to be too much of a strain on the neck. But the connection was solid and the cozy shabbiness of Charlie’s home resolved around him.

“Mum!” he called. “Are you there?”

“Ron!” a shriek from the next room startled him. Molly rushed in and knelt before him. “How are you? Is the house okay? How is Harry?”

“Fine,” Harry said, his heart pounding. Would she know her own son too well for this to work? “We’re both fine, the house is fine.”

“You haven’t thrown any parties, have you?” she asked knowingly.

“No, definitely not,” Harry said. “No parties.”

“Where is Harry, is he there with you?” she asked. “Tell him to join you.”

Harry withdrew his head and eyed Draco. “She wants you to join the call. Can you be me?”

“I can be you better than you can be you,” Draco said with haughty disdain.

They both stuck their heads back into the emerald flames. “Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco said in a bright, chipper, treacly sweet voice. Back in the Burrow Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

“Harry!” her smile grew. “How are you?”

“Brilliant!” Draco grinned.

“Ron tells me you haven’t thrown any parties. Is that true? Don’t think you can lie to me, boys,” she folded her arms across her chest.

“We haven’t thrown any parties,” Draco reassured her. “We’ve just been relaxing and enjoying our time off.”

“Well deserved,” Molly nodded approvingly. “I just wanted to check in to make sure everything was fine. We’ll be home in a little over a week. Please make sure you’ve picked up the place so we don’t come home to a pigsty.”

Draco snorted, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs again. He knew he was thinking about the mismatched construction of the Burrow, and the fact that he had thought it was ruined when he first saw it.

“You laugh, Harry Potter, but if that house is a mess when we get home I’ll tan both of your hides,” she wagged her finger. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Draco said.

“Well it was good of you to call me back,” she smiled sweetly. “We’re getting ready to go to the dragon races again. It’s been a marvelous trip. We’ll tell you all about it when we get home.” She blew a kiss. “Love you!”

“Love you, too,” Harry and Draco said in unison. Then they leaned back and pulled their heads out of the fireplace.

“Crisis averted,” Draco said with Harry’s mouth. “Aren’t you glad a Slytherin mind anticipated that she would want to speak to both of you?”

“Yes, yes, you’re brilliant,” Harry rolled Ron's eyes.

“Can I be very honest with you about something?” Draco asked. “I have absolutely no desire to kiss you right now.”

“That’s good,” Harry nodded. “Because I feel the same way.”

Just then the roiling bubbling feeling started again and Harry braced his hand on the floor while the change swept over his body. He felt himself get shorter, watched the freckles on his arms melt away, and finally he was back to himself. Draco looked up through Harry’s glasses and squinted as though pained.

“Great Merlin’s pants, Potter, your vision is terrible.” He handed Harry his glasses and smoothed his blond hair back into place.

“Can I be very honest with you about something?” Harry asked. Then he lunged at Draco and tackled him to the floor, kissing him deeply and running his hand down his body. He released Draco’s mouth and grinned at him.

“I agree,” Draco nodded. “But the Polyjuice aftertaste leaves something to be desired.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Where's Ron?” Harry poked his head into the living room, where Draco was pointing at things he wanted Bean to clean up.

“I thought he was with you,” Draco said. “He’s eighteen now, he doesn’t need to tell us what he’s doing.”

“Draco,” Harry said softly. “Fred.”

“Oh,” Draco's eyes widened. They rushed up the stairs to the second floor and found the door to the twins’ room open. Ron was lying face down on Fred’s bed, his arms curled around the pillow.

“Ron,” Harry said softly. “Are you okay?”

“He’s gone,” Ron’s voice was choked and weak.

“I know,” Harry said. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Ron rolled over and squinted at him.

“I didn’t think I should.”

“How can he be gone so fast?” Ron asked. “It’s all coming back to me so quickly, one minute I’m remembering talking to him and the next he’s gone, and it’s all in my head.”

“It’s not in your head. It’s real,” Draco said. “But you’re so close to the end, and then it will stop feeling like this. Just hang in there.”

Ron stared at him for a moment, his brows stitching together in an expression of confusion he wore frequently these days, especially when looking at Draco. His anger with his schoolmate had peaked three days prior when he was sixteen and had leveled off since then.

“You’re a two-faced bastard,” Ron said weakly, his eyes filled with betrayal. He laid back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. Draco said nothing and went back downstairs.

“Ron!”

“Your mother’s calling,” Harry said. “Come on, pick yourself up.”

Ron dragged himself off of the bed and brushed past Harry. He thudded down to the kitchen to answer the call. Harry followed him and joined him at the Floo as Draco was quietly slipping into the living room behind them.

“Hi, Mum,” Ron’s voice was transparently glum.

“What’s wrong?” she was instantly concerned. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Ron tried to sound brighter. “Just a little bored.”

“Well you two had better have that house cleaned up,” Molly said. “We’re coming home tomorrow night and it had better be spotless.”

“It will be, Mum,” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Your sister has asked me to tell you that she will be checking her room to make sure neither of you touched her belongings,” Molly added.

“We didn’t use her room,” Harry said quickly. “We stayed out of it the whole time, I promise.”

“She’ll be the judge of that, I’m sure,” Molly winked. “Okay, that’s all for now. We’ll see you tomorrow night!”

“Bye, mum,” Ron said as she withdrew her head from the fire. He turned to look at Harry. “Will this be over by then?”

“I think so,” Harry dug the well-worn hex information card out of his pocket. He had been carrying it around all month long, and it showed a pattern of wear from the number of times he had unfolded it to read it and folded it back again. “Tomorrow should be thirty days since you were hexed.”

“What is it going to feel like?” Ron asked. He was visibly nervous.

Harry shook his head, “I don’t know, mate. Like nothing, I hope.”

Draco leaned in the doorway and watched them quietly. Ron looked back and forth between him and Harry.

“It’s not going to be the same, is it?” he asked. “I mean, I’ll catch up to present, but I’ll still remember what happened.”

Harry and Draco nodded.

“And you two are together now,” Ron went on. “That’s not going anywhere, right?”

Harry and Draco shook their heads.

“I guess we’ll just see how it goes,” Ron said. Then he went back upstairs to his room.

That night Draco laid next to Harry in bed, curled up on his shoulder and perfectly still. Harry brushed his hair back from his face and kissed his forehead and stroked his hand but Draco was unmoved.

“What’s wrong?” Harry murmured. He slipped his glasses back on, pulling the soft blur of his face into focus. .

“What happens tomorrow?” Draco asked. His voice was so quiet that Harry could barely hear it.

“We’ll finish cleaning up and when the Weasleys get back we’ll go home,” Harry said.

“Should I be here when they get back?” Draco asked.

“Of course you should,” Harry squeezed his shoulders.

“They don’t like me any more than Ron does.” Draco said. “The she-weasel certainly doesn’t.”

“I’d advise you not call her she-weasel,” Harry chuckled. “Just be polite and I’ll stand by you.”

“Will you?” Draco raised his head and studied Harry closely.

“Of course I will,” Harry drew him in and kissed him. “You think this is a summer fling?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Draco said.

“It’s not a summer fling.”

“So when you say we’ll go home, where would that be?” Draco traced a finger down the stubble on Harry’s jaw.

“Good question,” Harry said. “I don’t see myself living at Malfoy Manor.”

“I don’t either,” Draco said. “It’s high time I got out of there.”

“I have a flat with Ron but I don’t think he’d want another roommate,” Harry said apologetically.

“Understandable.”

“For now, why don’t you get your own place,” Harry suggested. “We’ll see where this leads, and then when my lease is up in six months we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“All right,” Draco nodded. He laid his head back down on Harry’s shoulder. “And if Ron still hates me when this is all over?”

“That’s Ron’s choice,” Harry said. “It doesn’t change anything. I didn’t choose him over you the first time, and I’m not choosing him over you now. I have room for both of you in my life.”

Draco nodded and curled his arm around Harry’s waist. “Okay.”

“Come here,” Harry lifted his chin and kissed him again.

Draco was hesitant, tentative. Gone was the confidence and bravado that Harry found so appealing. He rolled them over so Draco was on top of him and squeezed his arse hard. Draco jumped and frowned disapprovingly. Harry squeezed again.

“Honk honk,” he said, grinning cheekily.

“Are you out of your mind, Potter?” Draco demanded, swatting his hands away in outrage. “You do not, I repeat, do not honk my arse under any circumstances.”

“There you are,” Harry’s grin grew. He rolled them over again until Draco was pinned beneath him. He dove in and kissed him hard, pressing him into the mattress. He could already feel the bulge in Draco’s pants and knew his outrage would lose out to his libido.

“Don’t change the subject,” Draco said sharply as Harry thrust his hand down Draco’s pants and caressed his bollocks. He groaned and struggled to maintain his scowl. “You sodding,” he shuddered as Harry began to slowly stroke his cock. “You bloody,” he groaned again. “Damn you,” he kissed Harry ravenously.

Harry worked his way down Draco’s chin to his neck, then down his chest with a detour around one nipple and then the other. Then he continued his journey, nibbling around his navel and tickling his nose down the line of fine blond hairs that led to his groin. He traced his tongue up the groove of Draco’s hip flexor, eliciting a groan that he tried to muffle with his hand. They had a buffer floor between them and the room at the top of the house, but sound had a tendency to travel.

Harry tickled the tip of Draco’s cock with his tongue, tasting the salty precum that had already started to form there. Draco gripped the sheets and tried in vain to thrust into Harry’s mouth. Harry shook his head teasingly and gripped the base of the shaft with his hand. He looked up with another grin.

“I swear to all that’s holy, Potter,” Draco gasped. “If you say honk--”

Harry plunged Draco’s cock into his mouth, cutting off his complaint with glee. He took it as far as he could, all the way back to his throat, then pulled back with taut lips. He squeezed the base of his shaft with his hand and descended for another deep swallow, and then released again.

Draco’s whole body shuddered with the effort to stay quiet. He bit his lip and his eyelids fluttered, and for a moment Harry was almost too distracted by the sight continue. He forced himself to focus on bringing Draco to climax. He wanted him to come, to know that Harry wanted nothing more than to make him feel this way. He bobbed faster now, working his hand and his mouth together, listening to Draco’s rapid breath as he approached the tipping point. He reached down with his other hand and gripped himself, stroking towards his own climax, that he would only permit once Draco reached it first.

“I’m going to,” Draco gasped. “I’m going to,” his breath caught in his throat as he arched his back and thrust his hips against Harry’s mouth. He came with force, and Harry was caught by surprise by the sheer volume that filled his throat. Then his own orgasm struck, surprising himself again with its intensity. He and Draco pushed and writhed and twitched until they were both drained and collapsed in exhaustion.

Harry laid his head on Draco’s stomach and curled his hands around his hips. He sighed happily and enjoyed the sizzling thrum of post-coital afterglow. Draco reached down and ruffled his fingers through Harry’s hair, still catching his breath from the effort.

“Okay,” he said between breaths. “I’m not worried anymore.”


	12. Chapter 12

The thirtieth day arrived without fanfare. Harry woke up in a position that was becoming increasingly familiar, curled up on the edge of the mattress while Draco was spread with arms and legs flung wide across the rest of the bed. He pushed and shoved Draco's limp body into a smaller shape and then curled around him. Wherever they ended up, they would need a bigger bed. 

Suddenly Harry realized what day it was. He popped up off of the pillow and listened carefully but could detect no movement in the house. Ron must still be asleep. He looked down at Draco, who was looking back with sleepy annoyance. 

"What are you doing?" he yawned. "Is there a prowler in the house?"

"No," Harry said. "It's the last day."

"I know," Draco tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

Harry grabbed his shoulder and rolled him back. "When do you think it's going to happen?" he asked. 

"I don't know, Harry," Draco sighed and mashed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "What time were we at SpellMart?"

"Right after lunch," Harry recalled. 

"Then that's when I would expect it to happen," Draco tried to close his eyes again. Harry was having none of it. 

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"I think what's going to happen is that I will go back to SpellMart and pick up another hex for you if you don't lie back down," Draco snapped.

Harry grinned at him.

"Don't you dare," Draco growled. 

Harry's grinned widened. 

"I will make you regret it."

"Worth it," Harry lunged on top of Draco and tickled him mercilessly. That Draco was immensely ticklish was his favorite discovery of the last month. And although he tried not to abuse the knowledge, sometimes it was just necessary. 

"Stop!" Draco squirmed desperately for freedom, thrashing and laughing miserably and kicking his feet. 

"Still want to go back to sleep, Malfoy?" Harry asked as his wiggling fingers fought to make contact with his ribs. 

"I swear I will curse you into next week," Draco gasped.

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

Harry and Draco froze. Ron leaned in the doorway with an eyebrow raised.

"At least you're dressed," he said dryly.

"You're up early," Harry sheepishly slid off of Draco and straightened his t-shirt.

"Today is the day," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Don't be nervous."

"Easier said than done, mate," Ron thudded his head against the door jamb.

"Come on, then," Draco patted the mattress between them. "Let's have a cuddle like when you were five."

Ron curled his lip at Draco and snorted. Harry's heart lifted. That was the most amicable exchange between them since Ron had turned sixteen. Maybe there was hope yet. 

"It's probably not going to happen until after lunch," Harry said. "We’ll have to get through the morning."

"Bean!" Draco called. The diminutive house elf popped into the room. "How about some breakfast?"

"Yes Master Draco," Bean said.

Ron patted his head affectionately. "I'll help,"

Breakfast was quiet, as was the rest of the morning, and as was lunch. The tension in the house filled it to the rafters. Harry and Draco snipped and grouched at each other as they spot-checked the cleanliness on all five floors. Bean kept his head down and did what he was told, trying to stay out of the line of fire. Ron sat outside in the garden and waited.

When the house was undeniably spotless Harry and Draco returned to the living room and sat silently, too keyed up to even argue anymore. 

Ron came inside for a glass of water and joined them in the living room. He drank it down and flopped into an overstuffed armchair, long legs stretched out in front of him. 

"It's taking too long," he grumbled. "Shouldn't it have happened by now--"

He froze and sat straight up in his chair. Harry and Draco snapped to attention as Ron's head tipped back and a gargling sound bubbled in his throat. His whole body convulsed and he collapsed, rolling limply to the rug. 

"Ron!" Draco leaped up from the sofa and rushed to his side. "Harry, do something!"

"I don't know what to do!" Harry cried. "Hold his head!"

"You're okay, Ron," Draco braced him and stroked his hair as he twitched and writhed. "You'll be okay, just hang in there."

Finally Ron stopped twitching and lay still, his tongue dangling from the corner of his mouth and his eyes vacant. 

"Is he okay?" Draco's voice was terrified. "Harry, is he okay?"

"Ron, please," Harry dropped to his knees, his heart in his throat. 

Ron blinked, then smiled. He looked up at Draco as a devilish gleam flashed in his eye. "Gotcha."

"What?" Draco shouted. "Was that an act?"

"That's for hexing me, you wanker," Ron sat up and socked Draco in the shoulder. "Don't ever do it again."

"You utter bastard!" Draco wheeled his arm to catch his balance.

"So," Harry's heart was pounding, "is it over?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "I felt it while I was out in the garden. Just a bit of a shiver."

"Oh," Harry didn't know what to think. It was terribly anticlimactic news.

Draco glared at Ron and Ron beamed triumphantly back. 

"I got you, admit it," he said. 

Just as Draco was opening his mouth to fire back a retort the Floo whooshed several times in a row and just like that the house was overflowing with Weasleys. Harry, Draco, and Ron scrambled to their feet as Molly and Arthur plowed into the room with outstretched arms and beaming faces. Ginny and Bill and Fleur and George and Percy followed behind, all chattering and filling the space with energy and noise.

It took several minutes before anyone noticed Draco’s presence. His hand was grasped and Molly even hugged him before the realization of his identity dawned on the group. A strange, awkward silence swept the room.

“Draco Malfoy, this is the Weasley family,” Harry performed the world's least necessary introduction. “Everyone, this is Draco.”

“Why is he here?” Ginny demanded, staring at Harry cockeyed.

“He’s a friend,” Harry said. He looked to Ron for help, knowing none would be offered.

Ron surprised him. “We’ve been getting on recently, putting the past behind us,” he said.

“Really?” George wrinkled his nose. ‘You haven’t been hexed, have you?”

“Only briefly,” Ron grinned. His family chuckled weakly as Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. He silently begged Ron not to tell them about the last month.

“Are you two,” Ginny pointed back and forth between Harry and Draco and let the question hang. Harry had to admit that they were standing awfully close to each other.

“Oh,” the other six Weasleys said in unison, nodding and agreeing with Ginny’s guess.

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat, "welcome to the Burrow.”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Out of my way, I need the loo,” Ginny whirled around and shoved past George. She pounded up the stairs as everyone else snapped back into motion, shuffling luggage around and babbling over the top of one another.

Draco’s eyes were round, overwhelmed by the sheer number of gingers and the hustle and bustle of the large family. After a month of just the three of them in the house, this surely was an invasion.

“Who’s been using my soap?” Ginny hollered down the stairs.

“I’ll buy you more,” Harry called up. She glared down at him, but then her mouth quirked and she shot him a sneaky smile and a wink. She knew what the smell of gardenias and honeysuckle did to him.

“Ron,” Molly called from the kitchen. “Why is there breastmilk potion in here?

The group went silent again. Harry and Draco whirled on each other in a panic and silently demanded an explanation. How could they have missed it? Harry raised his eyebrows and bugged his eyes out urgently. Draco shrugged his shoulders and scowled.

“It was a prank,” Ron said. “Draco tried to slip it into my drink.”

“Is this what you young people consider a prank these days?” Molly asked wonderingly, crossing the room and handing it to Draco.

“It beats blowing up someone’s bed,” Percy frowned pointedly at George.

“We should be going,” Ron said. He shoved Harry and Draco towards the front door, where they grabbed their bags and waved a cheerful, if nervous farewell.

They tumbled out into the yard and hustled away from the house. When they were well out of range Ron doubled over laughing.

“You should have seen the look on your faces when she found the potion,” he laughed.

“Did you put it there?” Harry demanded, his heart still pounding.

“I found it a few days ago and set it out just before they arrived,” Ron nodded proudly. “Consider it payback.”

“You already paid us back, Weasley,” Draco snapped. “How many times are you planning on paying us back?”

“Considering how much you owe me for that hex, I haven’t even begun,” Ron said with an evil grin.

“Bollocks,” Draco rubbed his forehead and turned to Harry for help.

“Relax,” Ron said, clapping them both on the shoulder. “I’m having you on. I don’t need any more vengeance.”

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” Draco asked.

“How could I stay mad at my Uncle Draco?” Ron said sweetly.

“Harry, make him stop,” Draco whined.

“Do you remember everything from the last month or did it fade into your childhood memories?” Harry asked.

“That’s the strange thing,” Ron said. “When I caught up to the present and that little shiver ran through me, suddenly my memories were all back where they belonged, and everything from the last month is clear and recent. I remember being five years old three weeks ago. I remember turning eleven and realizing who you are.”

“Do you remember being a baby?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Ron cocked his head and his expression softened. He eyed Draco closely. “I remember you rocking me and humming and holding me until I fell asleep.” He chuckled to himself, “I remember you giving me a ride on your shoulders when I was two. I remember you letting me put bubble bath suds on your face when I was three. I remember you telling me bedtime stories when I was four.”

Draco ducked his head, his cheeks flushed.

“You were kind to me,” Ron said. “Kinder than you were obligated to be.”

Draco cleared his throat and stared pointedly off into the field that lined the Weasley property.

“I’m still not over the way you acted in school,” Ron said. “But I can also see that you’ve changed.” He reached out and yanked Draco into a bear hug. “Thanks for caring for me, mate.”

Draco’s body was stiff, but Ron held him until he relented and finally returned the embrace. “I’m sorry I hexed you,” Draco’s voice was muffled by Ron’s shoulder. Ron finally released him and they regarded each other quietly for a moment. “I’m sorry about everything else, too. All of it.”

Ron nodded and Harry could see that he was sincerely touched by the apology. “Thanks, mate. Me, too.”

“Is it okay if he comes over for a bit?” Harry asked. “I want to show him our flat so he can pop in later.”

“Sure,” Ron shrugged. “See you there." And with that, he Disapparated for home.

“Am I coming over for a bit?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you might,” Harry said shyly. “You should at least come by so you know where to visualize.”

“Does that mean you have an open door policy?” Draco asked, stepping closer to Harry and taking his hand.

“For you, yes."

“All right,” Draco leaned over and kissed him gently. “I’ll come over for a few minutes, but then I have an errand to run.”

“Where do you need to go?” Harry wondered.

“I have to get over to SpellMart before they close.”

“What do you need at SpellMart?”

“I need to deliver a thank you note,” Draco drew Harry in by his waist. “If it wasn’t for them, this might have never happened.”

“That’s true,” Harry said.

He kissed Draco and then pulled him into an embrace. He closed his eyes and inhaled his spicy, smoky scent and thought about how lucky they were to have found each other at the end of their rivalry.

“Can you do me a favor while you’re there?” he asked.

Draco kissed him on his ear. “Do what?”

“Thank them for me, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The End


End file.
